I Am King
by where.l.writes
Summary: The tale of Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name, if he'd had a no-nonsense Tyrell girl to guide him away from his madness and towards the Iron Throne. Canon Deviation, some mistakes regarding the time frame and some (slight in my opinion) OOCness. Enjoy and no flames please.
1. Chapter 1

**My second asoiaf fic. Wish me luck. Again, please bare with me, as I haven't yet read ADWD, I'm no good with battle tactics that will come into play later in the fic, and some characters and situations will seem OOC or unrealistic. Just remember this fic is just for my amusement and the amusement of others, not a serious canon one. So, before you read you should know Viserys will be portrayed as a lot less dickish than he was in canon, the Tyrell's a lot more cunning and sly and loyal to the Targaryens and Dany won't be Queen. Also, Carmella Tyrell is an OC I created, and she will eventually be Viserys' love interest. Anyways, enjoy.**

 **-Mel**

* * *

 ** _15th of the Tenth Month of 283 AC_  
**

 _Lady Olenna Tyrell_

"We're finished, Mace," Olenna Tyrell snapped. "We supported our rightful leader and we're going to suffer for it."

"You mustn't think this way," Alerie said, panic evident in her own voice. "What could they possibly do to us? Punish us for being loyal to our oath sworn to the throne?"

"Yes," Olenna quipped, taking a large gulp of Arbor wine from her cup. "Tywin ordered for Elia and her children to be massacred, and married his twin off to the new king," she explained bitterly. "We don't stand a chance. The Lannister's will take this oppurtunity to destroy us."

"Now is not the time to drink," Mace said, surprisingly sombre, taking the chalice from his mother's hand. "Now is time to think—we won't go down without a fight."

"Then what do _you_ suggest we do then, darling son of mine?" The woman bit out.

"Dorne," Alerie said abruptly.

"Yes," Mace smiled at his wife. "Their Princess has just been butchered, we are not the only one's who supported the Targaryens and lost. They surely will not be prepared to swear fealty to the Lannisters."

Olenna thought on her son's words, she could see it, Dorne wasn't anything special, but they'd managed to resist Aegon and his dragons all those years ago, surely they didn't plan to bend to this new king, surely they had some plan for a rebuttal, a plan House Tyrell could be a part of. Yes, the Houses had never been close, but now they could be allies, friends even, now was not the time for hostility.

"Yes," she murmured. "We must act quickly. I will send a raven to Prince Doran."

"And one to the Red Viper, as well," Mace added. "He is an important to this as his brother."

"Of course," Olenna muttered, cursing the wine for clouding her senses. "Immediately," and with that, she departed.

 _Queen Cersei Baratheon_

Cersei was to marry the king on the morrow; her father had organised everything. She was to be Queen after all, Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms and wife of the most handsome man in them too, and a fine warrior. He was no Rhaegar, his beauty was not striking and nor did he seem to her a particularly fine man who would write songs to make her weep, but Cersei assured herself that her father would not marry her off to anyone unless they were at least marginally suitable. _And he is the king, a king who fought Aerys for his betrothed, an honourable and loyal man._ Cersei valued loyalty.

"Father," she nodded respectfully. "Will you remain in King's Landing?"

"For a while," Tywin responded. "Your brother has taken it upon himself to be a kingsguard, with him here I must return back to the Rock."

Cersei cleared her throat uncomfortably—she hadn't spared a thought for Jaime since she'd heard of her upcoming nuptials to the king. Jaime would always hold a special place in her heart but she was to be married and bear princes and princesses for Robert. She and Jaime would always be close but as brothers and sisters.

"You know Jaime," she said airily.

"Tyrion will remain with you here."

"Pardon?" Tyrion couldn't possibly stay with her, there was no place for that creature at her court.

"Did I stutter?"

"Of course not, but—"

"He is your brother, he is a _Lannister_ , he will stay here and represent our House."

"Father—"

"It wasn't a question."

Seething, Cersei ground her teeth. _Fine_ , she thought, _let the Imp stay, he will spend most of his time in brothels anyhow. I shan't have to lay my eyes on him but once a month, if I tell my king to, he will order Tyrion to the darkest corners on the Red Keep for me._

"What of the war?"

"For a woman, you ask far too many questions," Tywin stated, yet he answered nonetheless. "We have won. Nearly all royalists have bent the knee."

"Nearly all?"

"Dorne still resists:understandably. House Moot and the Tyrell's remain quiet."

"How do you plan to respond to these acts of treason?"

"I will advise the king on forgiveness of Dorne and Moot. The Tyrell's are another matter."

"They fought for Aerys," Cersei protested. "Let them burn as he would've done to us."

"I see no sense in that."

"Then what will you do?"

"Nothing. I am not the king. The Tyrell's should've remained neutral as I."

"They are not known for their caution," Cersei smirked. "Even their eldest daughter, Carmel, is it? She's a wild one, they are barely able to keep her within the Reach."

Tywin simply shrugged, and returned to his scrolls, dismissing his daughter. "I will see you tomorrow, Cersei."

"Yes, father."

 _Doran Martell_

"Lady Olenna Tyrell," Oberyn Martell drawled. "Queen of Thorns."

"Prince Oberyn," the woman replied briskly. "And Prince Doran."

"My lady," Doran said, his hunched back paining him. "Unfortunate for us to have to meet under such inhospitable circumstances."

"Yes, it is. Next time we'll meet indoors and above ground, yes?"

"Why do you want an alliance with Dorne, hm? We have been estranged for years," Oberyn asked.

"Past grievances should not hinder future success."

"Success, I hear?" Doran had allowed his brother to take the lead while he listened carefully.

"We are both loyal to House Targaryen," Olenna began. "We both fought for them and lost."

"Dorne is loyal to _Princess Elia,_ " Oberyn quipped. "You Tyrells however, owe the Targaryens your titles and lands."

"And Princess Elia was a Targaryen, no? Her children blood of the dragon like their father?" Olenna countered.

"You are a smart woman," Doran commented. "We will hear what you have to say and consider an alliance."

"Though we must make it clear," Oberyn interjected. "We ultimately want revenge for Elia, which seating Viserys on the throne will bring. We are not mindless followers of the dragons."

"Understood," she said.

Then she told them of her plan, of what she knew of theirs. Doran had to admit he was shocked to know she was privy to his ideas of betrothing Arianne to Viserys, and shocked to hear she would not protest against this but merely wanted Viserys' sister to wed Willas, her heir. She spoke quickly and with a certain authority he'd never heard in the voice of a woman of her position. Doran knew of course, that he would accept Olenna's help, Dorne was not as fearsome as once and did not command such a large army, the Reachmen and their Redwynne fleet would be a massive help, but he would have to seem apathetic at first and gauge just how much Olenna wanted to be part of this. _Apparently, quite a lot._ He wasn't sure to what extent he could trust House Tyrell, he certainly wouldn't be divulging everything to them but he recognised the usefulness in having an ally so close to King's Landing, with a social standing amongst the royals that Dorne did not have.

"Do we have a deal, then?"

"It seems we do, Lady Olenna of House Tyrell," Doran replied. "Viserys and his sister are now residing with Ser Willem Darry in the Free Cities, whom I am in contact with. I will tell him of these new circumstances and your wishes shall be granted. You do accept, however, that you will be funding and supplying an army for Viserys once he takes the throne?"

"Of course I do," she snapped. "Viserys will have 50,000 Reachmen once he comes of age and 200,000 golden dragons."

"Well, let us drink to our king," Oberyn proposed.

"Let's."

 _III_

"Do you trust them?" Oberyn questioned.

"Not so much. I am not fond of her plans to somehow send her youngest grandchild to the capital to integrate with the royals, nor do I like the idea of her trying to marry her offspring to the current royals, but it must be done."

"We cannot be blamed if she does decide to betray us," Oberyn shrugged. "We are barely even considered part of Westeros anyways."

 ** _Third Day of the Eleventh Month of 290 AC_**

"He'd _dead_?" Alerie Tyrell hissed. "How?"

"Some sickness," Olenna replied. "Viserys and his sister are stranded."

"Good gods," Mace said. "What shall we do? We cannot wash our hands of his cause, it our way to the top. Willas married to _royalty_."

"The Targaryens aren't royalty anymore," Alerie pointed out. "We can wed Marg or Carmel to Joffrey or Tommen or Loras to Myrcella, if we truly want a foot in at court. Viserys Targaryen is no longer a safe option."

"No," Olenna said firmly. "We swore an oath to the Targaryens."

"Oh, don't tell me you've _now_ decided to develop a moral compass?" Alerie scoffed.

"I swore an oath to _Doran Martell_. He deserves justice for his sister's death. Not only that, but these Lannisters are poison. Our Margaery may be a gem, but I would never put upon her a lifetime with them, and Carmel would slit her wrists before marrying some Lannister prince. No, no, we _will_ continue to support Viserys."

"But how?"

"Send Carmel," Mace said out of nowhere.

"What?" Alerie exclaimed, turning to face her husband. "Send _our daughter,_ where, exactly?"

"To Viserys and his sister. She is as wild as they come, and we can barely keep her in the palace for longer than a week."

"So we send her thousands of miles away, _alone_ , to watch over some prince?"

"Some _king_ ," Olenna corrected. "And why ever not? Every one knows of her nature. We can claim she ran away, and have her groom the king to our liking."

"Are you crazy?" Alerie demanded. "She is a child!"

"She will not go alone, of course, and we'll keep in touch and make sure she doesn't starve. She might even like it, Alerie, she longs for adventure," Mace said.

"Then send her North! To the honourable Ned Stark, not to, where is it? Braavos?"

"We can accuse some Dornishman of seducing and kidnapping her," Mace suggested. "Start up some feud between us and Dorne, to keep the Lannisters of our trail."

Olenna smiled proudly at our son. "Yes. I will teach her everything she must know, and send her on the way with a substantial amount of money."

"I won't stand for this," Alerie announced, departing the room.

"I'll speak with her later. For now, you contact the Viper and I'll fetch Carmel."

"And Willas. He must know, if this is to work."

As Olenna thought over all the changes that she must make for her plan to succeed, she wondered when she'd grown so sympathetic towards Dorne. Doran and her had become correspondents, and she respected his careful thinking and enjoyed the games of chess they often played in their secret rendezvous. She abhorred the Red Viper, yet she trusted him too. For five years all three of them had schemed for another takeover, an end to the false peacetime King Robert reigned over, to exterminate the power of the Lannisters, to see them crushed. Initially, though, Olenna had only proposed the plan in a moment of panic, when House Tyrell had been forgiven and left alone however, she often imagined she'd slowly decrease contact with Doran and ease out of the plot. But she hadn't. She couldn't. She'd sworn a vow, and say what people might say, she valued her integrity. And her power. A large part of her simply wanted to help a friend avenge his sister, and that was probably the part that had kept her engaged in the scheme for these long five years. But the part that would ensure she won the upcoming battle was the one that wanted House Tyrell to be respected and honoured, that wanted to be known in history books for restoring the Targaryen Dynasty. _And this time, they'll be none of that nasty inbreeding, we don't need any more Aerys'._

 _Lady Carmel Tyrell_

Carmel hated her life. Yes, she was grateful for it, but she hated it nonetheless. The restrictions and repetition and mind-dulling activities. She never understood how her younger sister could stand it. How any of them could stand _it. Maybe I'd be happier if I were like grandmother, no man to dictate my life, a ruling position in a powerful House,_ but alas, Carmel, or Carmella as she was commonly called, was not a widowed force of nature, but instead a highborn teenage rebel.

"Coming for a spar, Carmella?" Garlan asked.

"I'll have to pass at the chance of destroying you this one time," she teased. "Father wants me."

"He summoned Willas, too. What have you two done?"

"Not a thing," she argued. "Well. Nothing I haven't gotten away with in the past."

"Right," he grinned. "Good luck."

Her brother ran off. She longed for the sense of purpose he had. _Life wouldn't be so dull if I knew what I wanted to do with it. I cannot be a knight, or a sailor, like Loras or Garlan, nor a Maester like Willas, and I certainly won't be some lord's highborn wife._ Carmel had spent significant times with her grandmother, she knew of the power a highborn lady might wield, but that was only if their husbands were willing to allow that freedom and even then it took a mighty lot of work, manipulation and sexual persuasion. _I may be good at it but the politics of court seriously bore me._ Bore her they did, she was sick and tired of accompanying her father and grandmother to their vassal lords and convincing their young heirs to sway their father's to increase tax, or lend us a few ships.

"Father, you called for me?" She said uncertainly, as she entered his solar, giving her eldest brother a brief smile.

"I did, yes, Carmella it seems we need your help."

"Where is grandmother?"

"Right here, child."

"Father says you need my help?"

"We do. You both must listen while we explain."

And explain they did. Carmel could hardly believe her ears. _We're rebels!_ It was like something straight out her own imagination. The dangerous position these plans put her family in, the fact that she'd be leaving the only home she'd ever known, her beloved family and all their riches, didn't register in twelve-year-old Carmel's brain. She simply wanted to be gone. She wasn't even put off with the order of having to spend six weeks 'preparing' with her grandmother for this 'mission'.

"Smile, Will," she urged. "This is exciting."

"This is dangerous," he said solemnly. "Does mother know?"

"Of course."

"Mother knows?" Carmel exclaimed, pouting slightly.

"It is necessary, Willas. The Lannisters cannot be allowed to prosper as they have, we cannot allow a Usurper to sit the throne."

"Technically, Aegon was a Usurper. He had no claim nor ties to Westeros."

"Back then, we were seven separate kingdoms. There was no one royal family, it was up for anyone with the guts to take it, but now, the Targaryens have ruled for hundreds of years. They are the backbone of Westeros, our history and culture. It is their throne."

"I see. And if you bring Viserys back here and win him that throne, House Tyrell will be amongst the most powerful families in the realm," he noted dryly.

"Yes, son, so you see!"

"We already are a powerful House, what need is there for more?"

"Will," Carmel interrupted. "Can you not see we are fighting for justice? Tywin Lannister had Elia and her children butchered! Robert Baratheon is a drunken fool, and his wife is only Queen of Ice. We will not last long under their incompetent rule. We _must_ bring back the Targaryens since we cannot claim the throne for ourselves."

"And what do _you_ know, Carmella? You're but a child who fancies herself and adventurer. People will die if we bring this boy back to Westeros. Most likely us."

"Don't be such a spoil-sport," Carmel retorted, folding her arms.

 _He cannot ruin this for me! This is my chance to be free, and explore, and not only that, help my family in the most important way possible! Live with the future King of Westeros! I must make him see things as I do._

"So you truly believe King Robert will rule well? That his children will prove good leaders?"

"Better than Aerys or his offspring," he brother replied.

"You can't know that, Will," Carmel sensed that she'd found a way to persuade him. "He could be the next Jahaerys, or Aegon. Let me go, and I will tell you if Viserys is worth warring for."

Silence echoed around the room as Carmel's words sunk into her brother's mind. She could almost taste the air of Essos, feel the scorching sun on her back.

"You will have to read extensively before you go," Willas finally sighed. "It is not some holiday, you'll most likely be living on the streets, begging for a living since we will not be able to send you money."

"I don't mind," Carmel gushed. "And it's not like I'll be alone. I'll have the king."

"That's my girl," Mace clapped. "Come, let us begin, we do not have time to waste."

 ** _Fifth Day of the Second Month of 291 AC_**

 _Lady Carmel Tyrell_

"Is she ready?" The harsh voice of Oberyn Martell scratched at Carmel's ears.

"Yes," her grandmother answered, impatiently.

"She is sure this is what she wants to do? It will be years, decades even before she can return."

"She understands. This is what she wants," Carmel heard her grandmother's voice falter.

It had been hard leaving. Her father, who'd been the most enthusiastic about the plan, sobbed as she left for the final time, begged her to stay, her mother, who'd never wanted her to leave, had ignored the departure date for months, remained stoic and glassy as her eldest daughter waved goodbye, and her brother, Willas, stared upon her face for ages, before pulling her into a long hug and walking away. Lady Olenna had been the only one to remain strong. Carmel sensed the woman felt as upset as everyone else, but was the only one able to remain detached and solely focused on the plan. Plan. The word had become Carmel's worst enemy and best friend the past few months. _It's all for our plan._

"Fine. Let us go. Come, Carmel."

"It's Carmella, actually," Carmella told the tanned man.

"That's a bit obvious, isn't it?"

Olenna shrugged. "She insisted. Says it must be something she'll answer to."

"Whatever. Maybe you shorten it to Elle once you arrive."

"Arrive where, exactly?"

"Tyrosh. It is where the king and the princess head for; there are some old families from Valyria who might hear their plight."

Tyrosh. Carmella knew everything there was to know about the place. Willas had made her read book after book after book on the Free Cities, and even a few about Slaver's Bay. She was ready.

"Then let's go."

"I will let you say goodbye to your grandmother while I fetch my children."

Once the man had left, Carmella turned to face her closest confidante, the one woman she'd looked up to in all her life. Tears slipped unbidden down her face and her lips quivered.

"Don't cry, child."

"I'm ready, right?"

"If you want to be," the withered woman said.

"Do you think this is the right thing?"

"For our House, yes. For you, for our family, I am not sure."

"I need this," Carmella said, to herself more than anything. "I _want_ it."

"Then take it. Roam the Free Cities with the king and his sister. If he is not what we want, you have your fun and you come home. There is always a place for you."

And the two hugged.

 _Carmella of Westeros_

For two months, Carmella—nicknamed Ella by Obara who had no time for long names—roamed the city of Myr with Oberyn Martell and his two baseborn children. And she most definitely learned more on the two short months with the Dornish trio than she'd ever learnt with her Maester and septa back in Highgarden: what plants to avoid if you wanted to keep your life, what mixture of plants could cure you if someone made an attempt at your life with poison, how to know whether a man is lying, if a man can be persuaded with seduction or money, and how to dodge thieves. She also picked up a few tricks with Obara's spear. Highgarden was easily forgotten in her daily—not so playful—spars with Nymeria, who held none of Garlan's kindness or innocent teasing. Even Oberyn would occasionally give Carmella a small survival skills lesson, which could range from sword-fighting to gauging which gender a person is physically attracted to. It was the one of the best two months of Carmella of Westeros' life.

 _III_

Viserys and Daenerys stood not too far away, clutching each other's hands while the latter scanned the area with the curiosity only a six-year-old could possess. Carmella was not nervous. She'd watched them for weeks, she knew they were both becoming increasingly more desperate and starving as the days progressed. She'd heard Viserys soothe his sister with illuminating tales of their real home across the Narrow Sea. She had forty golden dragons that would keep them all well-fed for at least a month. Carmella approached the two.

"What are you looking at?" Viserys demanded, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I believe I'm looking at Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Daenerys smiled uncertainly at the familiar title, and Viserys quirked a regal eyebrow. Carmella sighed internally in relief. She had him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Btw there will be a flashback at the star of most/all chapters from when Viserys and Carmella were younger. Also, the time frame probably won't match up to the actual series, so I apologise for that.**

* * *

 _ **1st of the Seventh Month of 291 AC**_

"I'm hungry," Daenerys complained, lisping slightly. "Viserys says we have no money, though."

"He's right," Carmella responded, silently admiring the girl's silver locks, aching to reach and touch them. "But don't worry, I'll work something out."

The princess smiled, broadcasting her two missing teeth. "You're an angel," she said earnestly. "You always have money."

Carmella laughed at this, while Dany grinned, pleased with herself. Viserys, however, was not so pleased. "Well, do you happen to have some now?"

"Unfortunately not, Your Grace, I haven't received word from my family since last month," Carmella said carefully so as not to ignite his temper that had steadily been getting worse and worse.

"Then what use are you?" He demanded. "Just another damn mouth I have to somehow feed."

Carmella remained soundless, she'd come to realise that when the king went into one of his moods it was best to do so. Daenerys, young as she was, knew this as well, but still she chose to chance it. "You'll find a way, you always do."

"It's either that or starve," he muttered to himself. "Why don't you go and play somewhere," he said kindly to Daenerys.

"Your Grace?" Carmella said once Dany left.

"I think I have managed to persuade a nobleman to give us shelter."

"You do have a way with words, my king," Carmella lowered her head, fighting the very strong urge to slap _her king_ across his arrogant face.

"He knows he will be rewarded when I retake my throne."

Again, Carmella said nothing.

"I sold the pen your family sent for me," he said quietly. "Fetched quite a price."

"It was yours to do with as you please," Carmella answered.

"I have half of the money I got for it," he held his arm out stiffly, his hand clutching a jumble of silver coins. "Here."

The girl looked at the money unsurely. Viserys had been kind to her before: sharing out their sparse food and giving her more than half what he himself ate, protecting her from men who assumed she was up for sale, nursing her back to health when she came down with fever, but he'd never been this outward before. "Daenerys is hungry. Buy her some honey apples, Your Grace."

Viserys looked relieved and snatched the arm back to his body.

 ** _10th of the First Month of 299 AC_**

 ** _Carmella of Westeros_**

Long legs, highlighted by a short loose gown, marched purposely through the halls of Illyrio Mopatis' mansion. Carmella's—now almost exclusively known as Ella—skin had been turned light bronze by the sun, her eyes once wide and passionate were now narrowed from constantly squinting against the bright skies and had darkened somewhat from their childish turquoise to a deeper, more challenging blue; her hair that handmaidens had often curled into pleasing styles was now almost permanently worn swinging freely around her slim face an unnatural black. One could not tell that she hadn't been born and raised in Essos, from the way she spoke and looked, yet there was always an unnameable air of grace that hung around her, that revealed itself when she spoke with foreign lords, or decided she wanted to patronise a pretentious man.

Without even bothering to knock, Carmella pushed the door of Viserys' room wide open, ignoring the panicked eyes of his current bedwarmer. Once upon a time, maybe seven years ago, Carmella would've never dared approach the king with such boldness. For the first months of their shaky friendship, she'd treated him as she would've treated Prince Joffrey: carefully, making clear to highlight that she was his inferior. Quickly, she learned that his ego was far to susceptible to those charms and abandoned her nice manners and flattering smiles, exchanging them for harsh tutoring and firm guiding that eventually transformed into the friendlier ways she treated her brothers. It was easier when they were younger, a couple of fourteen year olds running wild. Now though, Westeros was falling to pieces, treacherous plots had sprouted almost everywhere, and Viserys no longer had any time to waste chasing after his sister or Carmella in a field of flowers. So now, Carmella and Viserys treated each other with barely concealed hostility, yet with a sense of familiarity and certain respect that could only appear after years together.

"You're still going along with that stupid Dothraki plan?" She asked heatedly, arms folded.

Viserys had one arm slung across the bedhead, the other rested behind his head, while his guest fidgeted under Carmella's harsh glare. "What of it?"

"You can't seriously mean to sell Dany to them? For an _army_? Of what, twenty thousand men?"

"Fifty thousand actually," he replied airily, gesturing for the young girl to leave, which she did hurriedly.

"My family will provide you with a sufficient enough army without—"

"Yes, I've heard it all before. Your family will put me back on the throne, etcetera etcetera. How much longer do you expect this family of yours will be, hm? _Another_ eight years? You would be so much more useful if your family actually had an army for me, like the Tyrell's or the Stark's."

Carmella exhaled loudly. "I've told you, when the time is right—"

"I'm sick of waiting, Ella. Your family have told you already—Westeros is becoming ripe for the taking. I cannot allow my chance to slip from my grasp."

"Just have a little patience," she implored. "Another year or two, at _most_ —"

"I have _more_ than a little patience. I'm willing to wait, but not with empty hands. Dany will be fine, I will be there to ensure she's treated with the respect deserved by the savages."

With nothing else to say, Carmella stood silently as Viserys climbed out of bed, stark naked and began to dress with the gracefulness of a dancer. The sight may have enchanted any other girl, but Carmella had the seen it too many times to be impressed and when she had been new to it she was far too young to appreciate it. Although she herself had never undressed in the presence of him, Viserys never seemed to care if she or Dany watched while he clothed.

"Was there anything else?" He asked.

"I thought _you_ were going to marry Daenerys," she pulled out her last resort. The mere idea of sweet little Dany bound to her intolerable brother for life made Carmella's stomach churn, but she'd happily buy a gift for a wedding between Viserys and Dany than the girl and some horselord. "You know, keep the royal blood pure."

Viserys pierced her with hard eyes. "Plans change."

"Don't you love her?" She challenged. "Is this what your mother would've wanted? You sending your sister to wed some wild stranger?"

"You don't know a thing about my mother," he growled.

"I know enough," she retorted. "Enough to know she wouldn't condone this."

"Well, she's not here to confirm that, is she? She's dead, like the rest of my family, because of the Usurper on my father's throne."

Sensing his anger had reached its boiling point, Carmella angrily left the room, her fingers itching to break something. She rarely, if ever, lost control the way she just had. Years of practice had rendered her able to compose an emotionless demeanour at the drop of a hat; and she could usually easily sway Viserys to do what she advised, she knew him so well they were almost one person, her him and Dany. But his renewed determination to seat himself of the blasted Iron Throne had shredded the affection in their relationship and turned his skull to rock that refused to let anyone deter him. _I will just have to have some patience._

"He said no, didn't he?" Daenerys asked dejectedly, when she saw her friend.

"I'm not finished with him, don't you worry," Carmella assured her, placing a comforting hand on the side of the princess' face.

"I'm not. Viserys won't leave me alone with the khal, so I'll be safe enough."

"Just not happy."

Daenerys shrugged. "Arranged marriages are nothing new."

Carmella had no reply for the young girl's wise words.

 _ **Viserys, Third of His Name.**_

 _Who does she think she is? Arguing with me? I am her king!_

The blonde boy sipped his wine aggressively, internally fuming at Carmella's boldness. Deciding his rant would better be said aloud, he voiced his feelings to the magister.

"I cannot believe she'd speak to me that way. In front of a slave, no less."

"You are right to be shocked, my king," Illyrio said. "She is out of order."

"I know," Viserys agreed. "If I were on my throne, I'd have her thrown in a cell for a day or two."

"You don't need a throne to punish her," Viserys heard the suggestive tones in the man's voice. "You are her king now. Say the word, and I'll have her put away for as long as you see fit."

For a split second, Viserys almost considered the offer. _He only says this because he does not like her._ He had learned sharpish that he could not punish or mistreat those loyal and devoted to him, and Carmella was at least one of those things.

"She is not to be trusted, Your Grace," Illyrio continued. "How dare she refuse to tell you which House she is from."

Viserys eyed the man suspiciously from the corner of his eye, slowly starting to see the deviousness that Carmella had pointed out to him weeks ago. _How foolish is this man to claim Ella is not to be trusted, Ella whom I have shared my life with since I was twelve. It is he who cannot be trusted. What sane man would suddenly decide to support my cause, when every other man has laughed at it for years. He has an ulterior motive that I was blind to not see before._ Viserys smiled and nodded along with Illyrio's whispered suggestions, knowing full well he would never punish Ella for defending his sister, no matter how much it irritated him.

"Anyhow, I must leave you, Your Grace. Duty calls," Viserys nodded in dismissal, and continued to think.

For an hour or so, he gave into his childish fantasies of being back in the Red Keep. But the fantasy soon became sour when he realised that going back to Westeros would not bring his mother or father back. _Who would want him back anyways, he was mad. Carmella told me so._ Viserys had never used to believe tales of the Mad King, had assured himself that his father was perfectly sane and a fantastic ruler. Even when he'd heard Ser Willem whispering with the other men back in Braavos, or seen the bruises on his mother's neck that Rhaegar always seemed to blame Aerys for, he'd sternly refused to accept that his father might be crazy. Partly out of love, partly out of fear that it may be hereditary. When Carmella had arrived, declaring that she was to watch over them for her family, and ensure their safety, with her bag full of golden dragons, he'd never believed her tales of his father's wrongdoing. It hadn't been until they were exiting Lys, after a half a year or so together, and he'd screamed at Daenerys for crying too loudly, that he admitted he couldn't accept that his father could be mad or else he would be too. It had also been the end of Carmella's sweet treatment of him and the start of her briskly calling him out about his violence and short temper.

 _"That's silly," she'd quickly dismissed. "Your father went mad because he was imprisoned for half a year by his own subjects."_

 _"But you said he showed hints of paranoia and jealousy before that," Viserys had pointed out._

 _"Because Tywin seemed a more competent ruler than himself. Which he probably was. But that was your father's fault, rather than try to learn from his friend or perfect his leadership, he let his feelings fester into severe madness."_

 _Viserys remembered almost feeling content with her brusk comforting words._

 _"But Targaryens are famed for being mad or great. If Rhaegar was the great one, it must mean I am not."_

 _Carmella had remained wordless for a while, carefully watching the young boy who couldn't look her in the eye. He remembered always wanting to touch her soft hair, so dark and silky he believed it must be some form of magic._

 _"We are ultimately defined by the choices we make," the girl eventually said. "You can choose to succumb to the darkness inside, or you fight against it. Make yourself great, don't assume it will be gifted to you."_

 _"Do you think I could do it?"_

 _"You're quite spoiled and self-entitled, and easy to win over with flattery. If you think a bit less of yourself and befriend those who are honest rather than syncopates, you'll do fine."_

 _He'd laughed then. "That all?"_

 _"That and no more of the inbreeding."_

Sure, they weren't getting along well now, but Ella and Viserys were the best of friends truly, they were family. He trusted her implicitly, and he knew the feeling was mutual. She was the one person whose advice he took, the one person whom he felt safe around because he knew she would never let him become what his father had. And she stopped me from mistreating Dany. Viserys remembered one day, when he was thirteen and Carmella's family hadn't sent the usual twenty silver stags, and he'd sold the last of his belongings to put food in Dany's ever crying mouth, and she'd cried even after eating, for home, and he'd been so frustrated that he'd hit her. And not a little slap on the arm, something both him and Carmella frequently gave the girl when she misbehaved, but a properly hard hit that sent her sprawling. That had shut her up. For two weeks. Had Carmella not been around, he feared the violence would've continued. _It was the only way I could release my frustrations without any money for a whore._ Ella though, she was having none of it.

 _"You need to apologise."_

 _"What for? We always hit her when she misbehaves, or how else will she learn?"_

 _"That wasn't a hit, and she wasn't misbehaving. She was crying for home, you were supposed to hug and kiss her, not punch her!"_

 _"You don't tell me what to do, I'm—"_

 _"You're my king, yes I know, but you're also an idiot. That girl kisses the ground you walk on. No wise king abuses those devoted to him. And I only take orders from the wise ones," with that, Carmella had flipped her long hair and stormed off._

No. Viserys was not going to take Illyrio's advice and punish Carmella for doing what she'd always done. Guide him. He'd never admit it aloud, of course, but he'd be lost without the girl and ten foot deep in his own personal kind of madness. But, he wasn't going to take Carmella's advice either. Daenerys would marry Khal Drogo and he would get his army. It was for the good of their cause, and the Iron Throne came before Dany's love life.


	3. Chapter 3

**To clear up any confusion: Carmella is only known as Lady Carmel Tyrell in Westeros and by any Westerosi people; she is known as Carmella by her immediate family and Viserys and Daenerys, but the latter two mostly call her Ella which is her alias in Essos so that nobody will guess who she is.**

* * *

 **4th of the Fifth Month of 293 AC**

Qohor was different. The people were strange and gave daily human sacrifices to their god, something that made Carmella extremely uneasy and frightened Dany. If they'd had a choice, she was sure Viserys would've happily passed over this City of Sorcerers, but now that Targaryen name rarely if ever coerced any one to give the three shelter or food, and men oft laughed at Viserys and had recently dubbed him The Beggar King. It was becoming harder and harder to reign his temper in, and Carmella sometimes even longed for the days when she treated him with formal indifference as it was much easier than now, when she had to provide comfort, encouragement and repeated excuses for the lack of money from her family all while ensuring Daenerys was never subject to Viserys' frustrations.

 _It will be a while before we send anything else,_ Carmella re-read her brother's beautifully written words, _Tyrion Lannister has arrived at court and it has put Queen Cersei on edge, seeing treason in everyone. Don't expect anything more for maybe a year or so. I will try to see if Oberyn can arrange something though. Hope you're well, the weather wherever you are must be fantastic._

Carmella gritted her teeth. She'd come to learn that her family had deluded themselves into thinking she was on some extended vacation and that the money they sent every three months or so _wasn't_ vital to her survival. The amounts had steadily decreased and decreased what with increased taxes, a bad harvest, some uprising and the fee sailors charged to carry the money, until she only expected maybe four or five golden dragons; a good amount usually but in the hands of clearly desperate children, unable to sustain them for more than three weeks. She knew she should complain, should remind her brother that her and her friends would die if they didn't get any money for the rest of the year but alas, she couldn't. Carmella knew that one word uttering the truth of what she endured would have her immediately collected and brought back to Highgarden some way or the other, despite the harm it could cause their plans. And she didn't want to leave, not just out of duty or a yearning for freedom but because she was afraid of what might happen to Daenerys or even the king should she do so.

"He laughed at me," Daenerys arrived out of nowhere, her words carrying her hurt and indignation. "Told me that Targaryens were nothing and called Viserys the Beggar King."

"Hush," Carmella said sharply, praying the boy hadn't heard his sister.

"I only asked for one of his rooms," Daenerys sat by Carmella's side. "He has over twenty, and I only asked for one and some bread."

"Some people are selfish."

"He said we had nothing to offer but the stink of the streets."

"Well, he was wrong wasn't he?" Carmella attempted to sound upbeat. "You're a princess, and soon he'll regret turning you away," she stroked the girl's silver hair.

"I don't want to be a princess," Daenerys sounded on the verge of sleep. "I just want to go back to your house in Westeros and meet your family. They're nice."

"Soon," Carmella's lips trembled. Dany's limbs were looking thinner and thinner with each passing day, her lips permanently chapped, and she slept nearly four times a day—which Carmella suspected was due to her poor diet and the harsh heat. She wished she hadn't given that begging urchin the last of her food so that she could've fed it to Dany's thin lips, but the child had begun to cry and Carmella could never deny a child—much less a crying one—anything.

"Will they let us stay with them?" Carmella asked hopefully as Viserys slouched down next to her some two hours later.

"No," his jaw hardened. "Claims there's no room."

"Oh," Carmella's heart dropped. "We wouldn't have wanted to stay anyways. They'd probably have slit our throats and offered us as a sacrifice."

"What's wrong with her?" Viserys reached for his sister and cradled her sleeping form in his lap. They were huddled beneath some tent on a back alley with nowhere else for her to lay.

"She's tired."

"Can't your family do something?"

She bit her lip. "There is nobody that can be trusted with the amount of money we need," she lied. "I did manage to convince some widow to let us stay but she insists she'll only take Dany."

"Why?"

"She deemed me to be cursed," Carmella shrugged, then Daenerys coughed loudly. "Maybe we should let—"

"No," Viserys said. "She's only safe with us."

Carmella watched him, anger boiling up inside her. _All those lessons in courtly intrigue! What the bloody hell help are they? They're meaningless here. Fucking meaningless._ She hated it, the feeling of helplessness. She was meant to watch over the royal siblings, make sure they survived on their own with no knight to watch over them, yet all she could do was stand by as they all starved to death. The only time she'd felt marginally useful was when she'd stopped Dany from playing with a lethal plant. She was surprised Viserys hadn't lashed out at her. He hadn't lashed out at any of them in a while, not since they'd had a huge argument over his mistreatment of Daenerys; but that had only been to stop him from hitting her, not become a different boy entirely. She sensed he was exhausted. She was shocked to find that it made her sad to see him so deflated.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"For what?"

"If I weren't here, you wouldn't have to try so hard to feed all of us."

"It wouldn't make much of a difference," he replied, closing his eyes. "What I manage to get now would still only barely keep me and Dany alive."

"Yes but—"

"Look, I'm not in the mood for this. You're here now, and that's that."

Carmella clamped her lips together; she heard him mutter, "When I am king, my first act will be to burn this city to the ground. All of them."

Carmella sighed at his tirade but for once did nothing to curb his vicious streak.

It wasn't until around four hours later, when Daenerys had failed to stir and rain seeped through the decrepit tent that Carmella voiced what had been on her mind for weeks now. "Viserys?

"Ella?"

"I've been thinking . . . "

"Get on with it, Ella, trying to rest here."

"I could make us some money."

"Pray tell."

"By selling myself."

Silence echoed. "Excuse me?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," she snapped. "I know you went with Tyra, and everyone knows she's a whore."

"I'm a man and a king no less, I can do as I like."

"Well _king_ , how else are we supposed to get any money for food or shelter?"

"So you want to become a prostitute?" He said incredulously. "You're a _lady_ ," he protested.

"A starving lady," she retorted.

"I couldn't stand by and let you dishonour yourself that way, how would I face your family when I return to Westeros?"

Carmella wanted to say it would be their fault for not providing her with the money they promised. "We wouldn't tell them."

"It's not a nice life," he said quietly. "You couldn't work in a brothel, we have to be free to run whenever the Usurper's knives come for us, so it would be on the street. Men are cruel, Ella. Not all as considerate as I," she couldn't help but snort at this, despite their situation. "What? Compared to what else is out there I'm as kind as they come. I have no need to beat a girl when I am with her."

"No one would beat me," she said.

"Whatever," he said, his voice returning to normal. "You're not selling yourself. I'm king and I won't be seen parading around with some whore," Carmella laughed loudly at this, swatting him playfully the arm. "Besides, what would Dany think? That she could do the same?"

"I'll think of something else then."

"It is a matter of time before these men realise I'm their true king, entitled to every ounce of food they have."

Carmella didn't point out that technically, Viserys was only king in Westeros and not Essos.

 _ **15th of the First Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Carmella of Westeros**_

Carmella regarded Illyrio Mopatis carefully; she knew that he despised her because of the influence she sometimes had over the king, and because she was as mysterious as he. With her by his side, Viserys was not as desperate for Illyrio's help—though it was welcomed—and did not succumb easily to his sickening flattery, though it did make the man more insufferable than usual after hearing how the kingdom longs for their rightful king, which Carmella knew to be rubbish.

"My lord," she bowed her head respectfully. "How might I help you, this fine morning?"

"Ella of Westeros," he drew out her fake title. "My friends are awed by your beauty and grace, they are jealous that I am able to host such a lady."

"Me, my lord? I would think they'd be far more awed by Princess Daenerys' beauty or jealous that you host the rightful king."

"Men, my dear, don't always think as wisely as a woman might," Illyrio feingned sadness. "Yet sometimes, we see the bigger picture. Lusting over Princess Daenerys may be nice, at first, but nothing could ever come to fruition; she is a royal, miles out of their league. Whereas you, you're a bit more attainable than the Princess of Dragonstone."

Carmella morphed her expression into one of enlightenment and wonder. "I see," she crooned. "Though I should not think to marry without consulting with my family first."

"Your family," he mused. "Who no-one knows anything of."

Carmella flinched. Her innocence act would not fly with this man, she would have to fess up or else he'd see right through her, and she wasn't quite ready for that. Unless she thought of some other way to deter him.

"I am ashamed of them, my lord. They are not particularly rich, or powerful and I fear His Grace would send me away if he learnt of who they were."

"Yet you say they will supply him with and army and gold," the man returned, his pig eyes inquisitive.

"That is what they have told me, my lord. They plan to wed my sister and brother into a powerful House and thus gain an army and gold."

"Are they sure this will work?" Carmella could see she'd convinced him.

"Yes. Under Targaryen rule my House flourished, they will do anything to see Viserys seated on his father's throne."

"And I assume you would like for me not to tell the king of this?"

"Please, my lord, if you'd be so kind."

"I will, darling girl, if you will be kind as to accompany me to a dinner tomorrow?"

"A dinner?"

"With one of my friends who marvel at your beauty. You on my arm will ensure the dinner goes as planned."

"I—" _what could I possibly do to sway the outcome of some dinner?_ "If His Grace is okay with it."

"Good. But, I do wonder what the _Princess_ would say should she find out? I couldn't stop her from informing the king of course," Carmella's face fell. "But if she's married of to the khal, I wouldn't be able to tell her, of course."

 _The swine!_ "You've heard that I do not support the engagement."

"My entire mansion has heard," he laughed. "But it is necessary, Lady Ella. Viserys will not last a day in Westeros without the army the khal offers. We cannot wait and allow a competent king to take over, making Viserys' journey to the crown ten time harder."

Carmella could hear some sense in his words. She knew she would have to go along with it now, or else reveal that her family were actually the Tyrell's who could provide Viserys with an army of fifty thousand, and that Dorne were waiting for his arrival with army of half that. Then again, she hadn't heard from Margaery in six months, and her grandmother twice that, only Willas had remembered to send the customary twenty silver stags last month, not that it was needed nowadays.

"Daenerys will be safe amongst them?" She questioned, only partly for show.

"Very much," Illyrio clapped his hands and smiled wide. "Come, let us choose a dress for our dinner!"

 ** _Viserys, Third of His Name_**

"You're okay with this, aren't you?" Viserys asked his quiet sister, knowing that even should she say no, he wouldn't stop it.

"If this is how I can help," she said. "But I wish I didn't have to."

"So do I," Viserys asked softly, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I won't let him hurt you, Dany, and if it please you, I'll annul the wedding when I come to the throne."

She nodded sombrely. "So long as you're there it'll be fine."

"Good," he nodded. "What would you like to do? We can go for a walk?"

"I'd rather not," she said, infuriating her brother with a quietness he wasn't used to, despite her being the timid one out of the two of them. "May I be excused?"

"Go ahead," he sighed.

Dany opened the door just in time for Carmella to walk through it. The princess offered her friend a small smile before disappearing down the hall. Carmella watched her with confusion etched across her face, then turned to Viserys for an explanation.

"I asked her about Khal Drogo."

"Ah."

"I don't like to hurt her."

"But the crown is worth more," Carmella finished dryly.

"The restoration of our family is more important, Ella, I've explained this."

"Is it though?" She said softly, moving towards where he sat on his bed and placing herself beside him. Viserys was instantly relaxed by the feel of her slim frame pressed up against his side. It reminded him of the summer they'd spent in Volantis, the one time in his life when he hadn't thought of the Iron Throne in his old home and had simply lived. "I've saved some money, we could take it and go somewhere. Back to Volantis maybe, buy some land, raise Dany—"

"And let my name die with me?"

"You could still have children," Carmella said. "Marry Dany if you like—" he heard her shudder at this and fought against the anger it flamed in him. _Who is she to scorn my family's ways?_ "Have little silver-haired kids."

"And name them Targaryen? For the Usurper and his sons to hunt them down and kill them?"

"His sons might not—"

" _Might_ ," Viserys interrupted. "I cannot place the future of my House on a might."

"I know," Carmella sighed. "It's still a pretty picture."

"It is," he agreed, _though not as pretty as the heads of the Usurper and his dogs decorating the Red Keep._

"I'm sorry for arguing with you. Sometimes I forget she isn't my sister."

Viserys knew this; it was one of the many things he liked about her, though it often complicated things when she forgot her place. "We all have to do things we don't want to."

"Yes, I suppose so. Like putting up with me for eight years," she joked.

"And vice versa," he smirked. "Though I suppose it wasn't really much of a chore."

"Oh?"

"Think how impressed your grandchildren will be when you tell them you once lived with the king."

"You're crazy," she teased.

Viserys laughed at this, but his insides clenched at the words. Anything that reminded the king of madness unnerved him. He knew and accepted that his father had died as mad as could be, and had spent the last eight years trying his hardest not to end up like that. And he felt as if he'd done his best. He didn't Daenerys hit out of anger, he tried not to let flattery blow his head too large, and he practiced humility best he could by reminding himself that Usurpers had taken the Targaryens off the throne, therefore he must not be the best of the best. Yet there were times when he thought he was mad that seemed to occur more often of late as he wondered whether it was sane to marry his sister off to a Dothraki savage, and times where it took strenuous efforts to fight against the darkness in him as Carmella had advised all those years ago, such as when he had to remind people that he was their king for them to pay him any kind of respect, when Carmella pointed out something that was blatantly obvious to her but seemingly nonexistent to him, but mostly when he tried to evaluate why exactly he wanted the Iron Throne so much when he had no idea what he'd do with it other than punish those who'd fought against his father. Other times, though, it seemed easy and madness was some foreign concept to him. Mostly when he, Dany and Carmella spent time together, and he laughed so much that he forgot the word king. And sometimes when he lay with a girl.

"It will be fine," she assured him. "Patience is key. Especially with the Dothraki, since they see Daenerys as a gift not payment to be repaid."

"I know."

"Good. Then I suppose it won't be as bad as I assumed."

"You always assume the worst."

"Oh really? Mister-I-have-to-keep-one-step-ahead-of-the-Usurpers-hired-knives?"

"Well I do," he pouted.

"Of course."

"Do you think I'm mad, Ella?" Viserys asked abruptly.

"What?"

"You _do_ speak the Common Tongue, no?"

"Shut up," she said jokingly.

"Well, do you?"

"I think you're mad to ask me that."

"I just like making sure."

"You'll drive yourself to _true_ madness worrying about it all the time."

"I have to. Imagine the joke I'd be if I took back the throne only to be thrown off it for being just as crazed as my father."

"I'll make sure that you don't end up like that."

"You can't. Not forever, anyways."

"Why ever not? I've done it for eight years, and I'm happy to do it eighty more."

"When I return to Westeros you may be able to stay with me for a year or so, but I imagine your family will want you wed, I'll have to wed and then you won't be there. I can fight the darkness but I can't fight my nature, El."

"And it's in your nature to be a raving lunatic? You're impulsive, quick to anger, resentful and slightly self-absorbed. But you're also ambitious, resourceful, you get things done and you're strong and kind to those loyal to you. I've told you this before, just think before you speak, think for yourself, keep patient and help those who need it. You'll be fine."

"Okay," it was all he needed to hear; those words would probably keep him happy for the next six months. Viserys had no idea what he'd become without Carmella.

"And don't worry. My family have never been able to control me. If I truly don't want to marry then I won't have to."

"Lucky you. Unfortunately I will have to, to provide heirs."

Viserys felt Carmella shift next to him. "Is that what you're sad about? That you won't marry Dany?"

"I always thought I would," he argued. "It is our way. And she's beautiful," _she looks just like me,_ the thought was twinged with sadness.

"There are plenty of beauty's."

"None like Dany, though. No Targaryen beauty's."

"She's your sister, though," Viserys heard the disgust in her voice.

"Don't you think I know that?" He quipped. "Do you think I _like_ the idea of fucking the girl I've raised since she was five? Do you think I love her _that_ way? Don't you think I want romance too? Of course I do, but I promised to protect her, and the best way I can do that is if we are wed. Then I don't have to worry about abusive husbands or plots against her life. I can sing her to sleep like I've always done, listen to her breathe in the night to make sure she's still alive, and be with the one person I can always trust. She is part of me as I am part of her."

"I never . . . I thought you just wanted her as your own, that you saw her as property."

"Please," Viserys scoffed. "When I was younger, maybe, when she was all I had and I knew nothing of the world. But I've read books now, spoken with different people, heard your tales of my ancestors, and I want more than just an arranged marriage, a life of contentedness and fondness. I want a woman to love me inside and out, to be overjoyed at bearing me children, to _want_ to protect me with her life, to feed my ego happily but keep me grounded. Not my kid sister who still shakes when I raise my voice and would only defy me in the most dire of circumstances."

And it was true too, Viserys had long ago left his romantic feelings towards Dany. He'd had Dany his entire life, she was his because he told her she was not because she loved him, marrying her would give him no fulfilment, just peace of mind maybe, but to win a girl over with his charm and wit, that would be a conquest, to make her fall in love with him, that would be fulfilling.

"You never told me," Carmella said.

"Why would I? Everyone thinks of me as this vile boy with no feelings who thinks he's entitled to everything. I think I am entitled to my throne and everything that comes with it, nothing more and nothing less. I love Daenerys. But she is not something that just comes with my throne, she is my sister. I want to see her happy, so that my mother might smile wherever she is."

"Well ,maybe she would be happy with this version of you."

"I just hope this Khal isn't too bad and doesn't presume to hurt my sister, else he'll wake the dragon."

"You still say that?" Carmella exclaimed happily.

"Enough about me," he said quickly.

"There's a first," Carmella laughed.

"No, really. Tell me what you want. It's your turn."

"Are we really going to do this, Viserys? We've barely been civil with each other since we came here and now you want me to share my deepest hopes and dreams with you."

"Sure," he said. "Dany and I have fallen out our fair share of times, yet if she asked me this question I would not refuse less I was still angry with her."

"Dany's your sister, though."

"And?" Viserys could not see the basis of her argument.

"Okay," her eyes were wide. "Well, I want to live. It's why my family asked me to come and find you in the first place, they knew I'd never refuse the chance at such freedom. Obviously the starvation and homelessness was a bit of a surprise, but we had some good years. Fun years, that I would've never had back home."

"Volantis?" Viserys queried. Their year in Volantis had been nice, a rich man with a deep interest in history and dragons had allowed the three to reside in his home free of charge, as long as they allowed him to draw Dany and Viserys and accompanied him to frequent feasts and tourneys as his Westerosi guests. People had treated them well, and asked for tales of the faraway land making Viserys feel a sense of importance he hadn't had in a long time. It is why he was shocked when Carmella replied with a firm no.

"Volantis was nice, but seeing all those slaves somewhat ruined the experience. No, my favourite year was in Lys. We may not have had a home, but we were never too hungry and we spent weeks in that flower garden. It was wonderful. You remember right, when I was fourteen?" She added at his blank expression.

"We often ate flowers and drank rainwater," he reminded her. "And everyone there called me The Beggar King."

"Yes but it never really got to you. And Dany was the happiest I've ever seen. Remember that day we played hide and seek and couldn't find her for hours? She'd fallen asleep on a tree and we found rabbits sniffing her hair."

"Yes," a trickle of fondness found its way into his voice. The days in the garden had been fun for Viserys, but the worry of hired knives and starvation were always lurking in his mind; Volantis had always been him favourite time, yet now watching Carmella's face become animated as she recalled all their memories he soon found Volantis losing its spot. "And you almost walked into a snake pit."

"And I reminded you that those kind of snakes were harmless and we feasted on them for days."

"Is that all you want, though? Running through gardens with two exiled children?"

"You were sixteen, hardly a child at the time."

"Still," he persisted. "That's it?"

She shrugged defensively. "Love doesn't excite me. You forget I was in Westeros much longer than you were, and I wasn't royal, I wouldn't even have a slither of choice in who I wed. At least you can pick, and Daenerys too once you have her marriage annulled. I had to marry whoever my father thought suitable."

"Who might that have been?" Carmella had told him and his sister endless tales of Westeros, the politics that plagued the highborn, the beauty of the kingdoms alongside the extreme poverty, but rarely had she ever told them of her life, of her family even, except that they wanted to see him sat on the throne. "I don't know. Some lord, I expect. Maybe even Prince Joffrey if I was lucky."

"The Usurper's boy?" It irked Viserys to hear her refer to someone he loathed as 'Prince'.

"Sorry. Force of habit," she said. "But yes. Married to royalty, my father salivated at the idea. My grandmother may have been able to persuade against it if I asked, but contrary to his outwards appearance, he's a hard man to sway."

"Is that why he sent you to me? So that you could seduce me?"

"What? Of course not. If he had, I've done a rather terrible job at it. This is the first time we've talked properly in months."

For some reason, the thought of Carmella seducing him did not make Viserys feel as uncomfortable as he imagined it would. Of course, he'd been attracted to her sexually once, while they were still in Qohor and she had grown up some and he'd learnt what the thing between his pants was for, and he'd always thought her pretty, but those thoughts quickly faded as the years passed and she became more of a sister than a girl, and quick to berate him.

"So they don't want you to marry me, then?" To his own ears he sounded strange.

She moved away from his side and stood above him, pretending to fiddle in the mirror. Viserys could see she was hiding something. This pleased him. Usually Carmella was the one to spy deceit where he was blind or read motivations that were alien to him, now though, he could read her as easily as a book. "I'd imagine they'd quite like that, especially if you do take the throne."

" _When_ I take the throne," he coughed.

"But all my family wanted was to make sure you weren't a ma—" this time she coughed. "Were fit to go to war for. And make sure you didn't starve. I expect that I'll have to eventually marry into some rich House whose support we'll need for your claim."

That made Viserys unhappy. "Who?"

"A Stark maybe. Lord Eddard is the Usurper's foster brother and has a son roughly my age. Or a Lannister even, though I'd probably throw myself from a tower before that."

"I'd never let you marry a Lannister. Once I'm done, I assure you that House will no longer exist," he declared. "And the Stark boy. I can hardly imagine you cooped up in the North. Winterfell, is it? Secluded castle with no sun."

"I'd do it if I had to. The same way Dany is doing this."

"Well, you won't," Viserys said in a voice he hadn't used since he was twelve. "I'd marry you myself before I sent you to the North."

Carmella looked at him for a long moment. "Sometimes I forget that you can be kind to me."

"Why would you? I'm your king, I'm sworn to protect you."

"Yes, but," she sighed with a smile on her face. "I've missed speaking to you like this. Lately every time we talk it is about you becoming king. We used to talk about everything."

"Then you should come to me," Viserys frowned. He knew girls often played games and tricks with men, particularly powerful men that they liked, but never had Carmella played one of them with him or any other man that he knew of, therefore he automatically assumed that she was being stupid to think he would turn her away if she came to speak with him. "I don't know what eight years of living together means to you, but to me it means we can speak about whatever we want whenever we want."

"You're hardly the most approachable person, Viserys. And we've argued a lot. All I had to do was open my mouth and you'd tell me to close it."

"You were harping on about things I couldn't change. It became irritating."

"See what I mean," she said triumphantly. "I just forget what you're like."

"Well stop it. We're as close to family as I'll ever get with anyone other than Dany. When we argue it doesn't mean anything to me because I know we still love each other, I don't know what kind of monster you take me for that I wouldn't want to speak with you because we had a disagreement."

"I guess I never realised that we loved each other," there was a small quirk to her lips that Viserys enjoyed seeing. Where Daenerys was cool and timid and small, Carmella was bold and hot. "You can be so harsh with everyone."

"I have to be. I thought you knew that with you, it didn't mean anything."

"I forgot."

"Well stop forgetting."

"Got it," Carmella smirked and threw herself back onto his bed where she proceeded to tell Viserys of every thought that had entered her mind since they'd stopped talking. More than once he lapsed into intense boredom but pretended to listen for fear of offending her. Again. He watched her mouth move. _Her teeth are very white._ And not for the first time, ached to know what family she came from. He had vowed, around four years ago, that the family that had given him Carmella would be rewarded their wildest dreams, he wanted to know which family it was exactly so he could start thinking up rewards. So as not to become too distracted, he opened his ears and observed her raven hair that he was now almost sure was not her natural colour. It suited her well. And then a thought that had never once occurred to Viserys occurred to him them as Carmella fell into a peal of giggles remembering something he had said when he was seventeen. _What if I were to marry my Westerosi bride_ and _Carmella? Aegon The Conquerer had two wives, why can't I?_ She was very pretty, she knew him well, loved him as far as he knew, and was one of the few people who didn't irritate him into _true_ anger. And from her tales, it seemed he had made a rather large impression on her life since most of the anecdotes included him. However, when her topics drifted to Westeros and she spoke of her sister's upcoming nuptials Viserys realised he could never allow Carmella to suffer the shame of being his second wife whose children could never inherit the throne. Besides he didn't want Carmella who it seemed didn't think of him as family the way he did of her, he wanted what he'd told her earlier. A woman to fall for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**_4th of the Seventh Month of 293 AC_**

"Tell me more of my home," the king demanded one sunny day, in the home of a merchant Carmella had convinced to house them.

"What do you want to know?" Carmella was also in high spirits; the merchant's son had called her beautiful, and though she was still at the age where boys disgusted her, hearing the compliment nonetheless had rendered her unable to stop smiling.

"I want to hear about Highgarden," Dany said. "About the tourneys and costumes."

Viserys rolled his eyes but smiled warmly at his sister. "You've heard about the place so much _you_ could probably tell the story, Dany."

"Fine," the girl said impishly. "What do you want to hear about, Viserys?"

"The North," he said.

"The North?" Carmella repeated.

"It's the largest part of my kingdoms, they can raise a threatening army and are the wall between us and the Others."

Carmella rolled her eyes, no matter how many times she told Viserys the Other's were about as real as unicorns he refused to believe her. "Fine. Well Lord Eddard Stark rules it, he is known for being honourable and just, he was one of the few who objected to the brutal murder of Princess Elia and her children, he urged the Usurper to send Jaime Lannister to the Wall rather than reward him with a white cloak—"

"Who is Jaime Lannister?" Daenerys asked.

"Lord Tywin's heir. He was part of your father's kingsguard," Carmella explained.

"And broke his vows to push a knife through our father's back," Viserys added coldly.

"We'll bring him fire and blood then, won't we?" Carmella was slightly frightened by such fierce words tumbling out of such a sweet mouth, Daenerys looked up at her brother expectantly. "Of course we will, sweet sister," he patted her cheek.

"Yes, well he's commonly known as the kingslayer. But back onto the North; Lord Stark rules from the ancient castle of Winterfell, initially constructed by Bran the Builder. The Northern often have a strong sense of justice and honour, with many of them joining the Night's Watch, a group of men who swear to sever all family ties and inheritance, and swear not to join the realm's politics, but defend the kingdoms from whatever is beyond the wall."

"Explain the Wall to me again," Viserys instructed.

"It is thousands of feet tall and separates us from wildlings, and the Others."

"Wildlings?" Viserys questioned. Sometimes it surprised Carmella just how little Viserys actually knew about anything that didn't have to with King's Landing or Robert Baretheon.

"Call themselves the free folk. They're wild and will sometimes climb across the wall and pillage and raid areas of the North. It is usually up to Lord Stark or the Night's Watch to stop them."

"So theoretically, when I become king they would be no concern of mine."

"Well, yes, _theoretically_ , but a good king concerns himself with all parts of his domain. King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne toured the Seven Kingdoms and even visited the North. Good Queen Alysanne even used her own jewellery to pay for the construction of some castles for the Night's Watch."

"I like Good Queen Alysanne," Dany announced. "Did she look like me?"

"I'd imagine so, all Targaryens usually look alike."

"You can be just like her when you become Queen," Viserys promised, causing Carmella to frown at the reminder of the incestuous union planned between the two. She bit her lip from revealing that Viserys was sworn to marry Arianne Martell.

"Yes, it is said that the two ruled side by side, and brought fifty-five years of peace to the realm."

"I know. It is what my father thought he would do."

Carmella cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Lord Stark will most likely not fight for you when you return to Westeros nor will the Riverlands since Catelyn Tully is his wife; not only is he a good friend and previous foster brother of the Usurper, but your father had his father and eldest brother killed without trial."

"For threatening the life of my brother, the Prince of Dragonstone."

"He had just kidnapped the maiden Lyanna Stark, his sister," Carmella reminded him.

"Kidnapped?" Daenerys said. "Rhaegar was bad?"

"He was a man," Carmella answered quickly before Viserys filled her head with some drivel about how the previous crown prince was the finest man alive. "He named Lyanna Stark Queen of Love and Beauty passing over his own wife Elia of Dorne and a year later absconded with her. He was a promising ruler, loved by many and known to be rather melancholy. Whether Lyanna Stark went voluntarily or he kidnapped her, he should've known better as he caused the death of thousands."

"So he was a killer?"

"A _fine_ killer," Viserys said, giving Carmella a hard look.

"He was a _scholar_ , first and foremost," Carmella said. "He read intensively and played the harp so well it brought ladies to tears."

"Really?" Viserys said without thinking.

"Yes. Really," Carmella offered him a small smile. She imagined it must be hard to accept that a stranger seemed to know more about your own family than you do, more about your own home. She was glad Willas had thought to make her read so much about the Targaryens, as it seemed Viserys had a very distorted vision of his family, that she'd only recently began to reconstruct. "I think he might've made a good king."

"Now it's up to Viserys to make a great one," Dany said, smiling happily up at her brother, who smiled thinly in return.

Carmella couldn't help but think he would.

 ** _17th of the First Month of 299 AC_**

 ** _Carmella of Westeros_**

 _Dear Sister,_

 _Inform father and whomever it may concern that something has come up that may disturb our plans. The girl is to marry some Dothraki khal, which could stop her from wedding our brother. The man has said he will have the marriage annulled once he comes to his throne, but it still means that she will not be maiden and may already have a child or two for her new husband. I have tried and I cannot stop this without revealing who I am. Maybe we wed the man's future children to our own future children instead? It may take longer but we still see one of ours on the Iron Throne._

 _Yours, Carmel._

Carmella sent her letter off with one of Willas' specially trained raven. She would usually use codenames and such, but today Carmella was tired. She was sick of everything. With Daenerys approved by and set to marry the khal the next morning, everything was becoming so much more real, and she was unsure of how she felt about it. She'd finally heard that her sister, Margaery, who'd been let in on the plan a few years earlier, was either set to marry Renly or Robert Baratheon in the upcoming civil war that her grandmother assured her was inevitable. Apparently, Ned Stark was being brought to King's Landing to serve as Hand with Jon Arryn's death. The Starks were the only Great Lord's her grandmother feared would stand in the way of Viserys and the throne; and so of course Carmella had been told that if everything worked out correctly, she was to wed Robb the heir, or if not, Viserys would legitimise the bastard and she would wed Jon Snow instead. Carmella didn't want to marry any of these men. She was not Margaery. Eight years away from her family had seen Carmella changed drastically. When she was twelve she'd been a boisterous rebel who might've eventually started behaving, but now she was twenty and a woman besides. A woman who hadn't identified herself as a Tyrell in almost a decade. Who'd lived like a pauper and a Queen with two exiled children whom she loved greatly. More than she loved Margaery who she hadn't seen since the girl was six or seven, or Garlan whose teasing grin she couldn't even remember, or Willas, whose book clutching form she actually thought she loathed. How could her family expect her to still be totally loyal to them after all the time she'd spent away from them? It was Dany who she'd rocked to sleep, Viserys who would pretend to spar with her, not Margaery or Loras. But how would she explain that when she returned? How could she tell her family that she was now Ella. Carmella only sometimes and Carmel never. That if she had to choose between Viserys and Willas she knew who'd she pick. That secretly, she dubbed herself Ella Targaryen and wondered if she was desperate to do so.

 ** _Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone_**

Daenerys Targaryen was not scared to marry Khal Drogo. Even though when she'd seen him, he towered above her by half and even Viserys, even though his braid swung long and proud proclaiming that he'd never lost in battle, not once. She wasn't scared because she knew she was doing this for her family, and not just the ones she knew and loved, but the ones who had been dead and gone her entire life and more. _My queen mother, my prince brother even my mad father._ She wasn't as brazen about it as her brother, but Daenerys longed to see her House rightfully restored. _Plus, Viserys promises he will always be with me._ Dany held strong feelings for her brother, and for the most part she adored him, she looked up to him and was eternally grateful for him, he had essentially raised her and even when Carmella had come with her occasional bouts of money that helped them all extremely, it was Viserys who always went to market stalls to beg or barter, him who would always cook and make sure she ate as much as possible, he who disappeared for hours only to return with half of what they needed to cure Dany and Carmella when the both caught some sickness, when she was almost certainly sure he suffered from the same symptoms as them. And despite all that, nearly all of her memories of Viserys were happy. He'd only ever shouted at her when he was understandably frustrated, and only hit her once. Dany knew that maybe had Carmella not been around, Viserys would've continued hitting her, but she still loved and trusted him all the same. She would happily marry him rather than the Khal Drogo. But if it was really up to her, she'd marry neither. Though she'd grown up expecting to be with her brother, once she became old enough to understand love, she realised Viserys would never marry her even though he always claimed otherwise. Even if she didn't marry the khal he wouldn't have wed her, not with Carmella around. Viserys was a difficult man, Dany knew this, and it was why they'd fallen out those few times, —Carmella had told the princess never to let him abuse her as it would only encourage the behaviour which would ultimately affect his leadership skills— But even Daenerys found it hard to curb Viserys' resentment and impulsiveness, that he often directed at her—she feared it was because she was the reason their mother had died—, but Carmella, Viserys never dared mistreat her the way he would sometimes attempt to with Dany and others. In the beginning, Viserys was wary of the addition to their little crew, and never left Dany alone with her, but he soon came to . . . Respect her, Dany thought. Viserys didn't respect many people. Carmella never had to raise her voice to get Viserys to behave, all she would do is firmly tell him that he was in the wrong and walk off and that seemed to work on him. Sometimes it was as if Carmella was the eldest. Dany soon saw how Viserys changed after a few years with Carmella. He would not shout as often, he did not act as if Targaryens were the best thing since sliced bread, he didn't rave about killing the Usurper and his dogs but even contemplated how he could fix the lives of the smallfolk and asked about the financial situation in his kingdoms, something Viserys had never mentioned before Carmella had informed him of what it really meant to be king. And not only did the Westerosi girl manage to control the king's worse habits but she brought out his best ones. Viserys was a charmer, and when he was in a good mood, he was the best man to be around, he laughed and joked, and played and would sometimes use the last of their money to buy Dany a toy she would inevitably lose, or buy another child orphan like themselves a piece of bread. That was all Carmella's influence. When they celebrated Carmella's seventeenth birthday, Viserys had been so happy and loving—even buying a slave and his wife and then freeing them, as a gift to the girl he knew despised the slave trade—, Dany could almost pretend her parents weren't dead, that they were before her, because that's what Carmella and Viserys felt like. And Dany wasn't stupid, Carmella was a very attractive woman and when she wanted to be, very flirtatious, it was easy to see that Viserys was attracted to her even though he didn't want to admit it. Dany remembered one day a couple of years ago, on their travels back to Braavos where Viserys was going to sail to Dorne, before Magister Illyrio had approached them with his silky words, they had spent the night in a small abandoned house with only one bed, so Viserys and Carmella had had to share, something they hadn't done in a while. Dany usually slept with either of them and would sleep in the middle if they had to share, but this time she slept in the corner of the bed, on Viserys' right, with Carmella on his other side. Deep in the night she awoke, thirsty and went to shake one of her guardians awake only to find them both curled up with each other. Carmella, usually so independent and strong looked so small and helpless under Viserys' arm, her head in the crook of his neck, and Viserys usually so foreboding looked peaceful, with both his arms wrapped around his friend's form, his lips puckered into a kiss atop her head. Dany had then chose to give them room and slept on the floor, she remembers dreaming of a life where Viserys and Carmella were really her parents and they lived in the house with the red door and lemon tree by the window.

She was not so idealistic now, though. Despite the fact that it was clear Carmella and Viserys loved each other and she prayed every night that they would end up together, deep down she suspected that Viserys would have to marry someone else, another girl whose father would give him ships, and men and gold to see his daughter seated by the king, and that Carmella would return to her old life, with her real family, and Viserys would be left alone with a crown and a woman with no hope of ever really understanding him. Dany had believed that she would marry into Carmella's family, to secure their loyalty with a royal marriage, something she always looked forward to, but with Khal Drogo now in the mix she wasn't sure where exactly she fitted in back home in Westeros.

"Hey Dany, are you all right?" Carmella asked as she entered the princess' room, _her hair is tied up today, she looks sad._

"I'm fine," Daenerys gave her sister, despite what blood might say, a hug and a kiss. "How are you?"

"All right, but I'm starting to get antsy here. I'm actually looking forward to your wedding, so we'll get to leave."

Dany laughed at the girl's sense of humour. "Yes, trudging around on horseback sounds so much better than sipping wine in this manse."

Carmella scowled. "I had enough of this kind of life back in Westeros."

"Can't have been that bad," Dany said.

"I suppose. How are you feeling about every thing, though? Truly? I know I tried to convince Viserys otherwise, but this might be the best thing for our cause, I just hope you're not too sad."

"I'm not sad at all, sweet sister."

Carmella's furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?"

"It's just," the woman began. "You called me sister."

 _Is this the first time I've called her that? She must know that is how I feel about her? Maybe I have overstepped . . . She has her own siblings, she doesn't want us._ "Is that wrong?"

"No no, I just never assumed you saw me that way."

"Why not?"

Carmella shrugged shyly, a side of her Dany seldom saw. The princess grinned. "Because I'm not a Targaryen, obviously," she mumbled.

"You don't have to be for me to love you," Daenerys said earnestly. "You're one of us in every other way that matters."

"But you legacy is so important to you and your brother, and I'm obviously not part of that."

"When historians write about the restoration of House Targaryen, the name Carmella will be dashed across every page," Daenerys said. "So you will be a part of our legacy in every way that matters. Plus, you never know, you might become a Targaryen some day."

"I seriously doubt your brother will just change my name," Carmella snorted.

"He might," Dany winked.

"I'm not catching on here, Dany."

"Well, if you two were to wed then your last name and House would change."

Carmella began laughing. Loudly. Daenerys pouted. "It could happen!"

"It won't. Not only am I probably betrothed to someone else, me and your brother can barely stand each other."

"Sure," Dany said knowingly. "And it's not so crazy an idea. You're a girl, he's a boy, you know each other, care for each other."

"Still," Carmella said. "I won't be marrying Viserys any time soon."

Daenerys grumbled to herself. "Do you understand what happens once you marry the khal?"

Dany squirmed. "Viserys has told me that I am to allow him to have his way," she replied stiffly.

"He didn't offer a deeper explanation?"

"No."

"You'd think he would, what with all the experience he has."

"Experience?"

Carmella looked at Daenerys. "You might still be a child in most ways, but you've flowered and in Westeros that means you're a woman now. So I guess, I'll have to give you the talk."

"Did your mother give it to you?"

"No. I hadn't flowered while I was back home, but my grandmother told me of what to expect before I left."

"I see."

Usually Carmella was quite collected, and hardly ever fidgeted but Dany could swear she saw the girl clench then unclench her fists. "Well, Khal Drogo will engage in intercourse with you after the wedding. This means placing a certain part of his body, here," Carmella gestured to the middle of her hips. "It will most likely hurt, and you will bleed when he breaks your maidenhead. It would be best not to cry, though he shouldn't take you too roughly."

Daenerys opened her mouth to say something, but Carmella ploughed on. "I've heard that the Dothraki take their wives from behind . . . Like dogs. I suppose, if you don't like it, you could speak with him about it, though I'm not so sure how that would pan out."

"Have you ever . . . ?" Dany asked raising her eyebrows.

"No."

"Oh." _But she is so pretty, and exotic and I've seen plenty men watch her as she walks._ "Have you never wanted to?"

"Occasionally," Carmella responded. "But there was never a chance."

"Of course there were!" Dany exclaimed. "Any man would be lucky to have you."

"That's not what I meant, but thank you."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant that . . ." Carmella sighed loudly. "It was easy for your brother, because he is a man and had access to whores. Pardon my language."

"And there were no male whores?"

"Well, not to my knowledge, but even that wasn't the reason I never. You do know what happens when a man lays with a woman?"

"She'll have his child," realisation dawned on Dany's face.

"Exactly. Whores have access to a special tea that can get rid of the babies in their stomach, and most likely the man will not let his seed spill into her which is what gets her with child. I didn't have access to the tea, and there was no man that I trusted to not spill inside of me."

"There was always . . ."

"Who? Your brother? Don't make me laugh, Dany. How exactly would that have worked out?"

"I don't know. It sounds unfair that you've never had a chance to . . . And he has."

"It's not so bad. I wouldn't want to be walking around with some man's bastard anyways, especially not your brother's. Plus, back home I wouldn't have been able to either, else risk defiling myself. It would ruin any marriage prospects."

"I guess."

The girls continued to discuss Daenerys' wedding night, though Dany couldn't shake the feeling that all was not right with her friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, thanks for the support for this fic, but a few things I missed at the beginning I'd just like to add here:**

 ** _None of these characters or places belong to me, all credit goes to GRRM or HBO and I make no money from this._**

 ** _Also, I will refer to the Faith of the Seven or the old gods alot and I'd just like to make clear that I am not encouraging anyone to worship these gods themselves and I am actually a Christian myself and believe that worship of these made up religions would be a sin. I just don't want to be accused of encouraging anyone to worship then etc etc._ **

* * *

**_30th of the Seventh Month of 293 AC_**

With a furrowed brow, Daenerys watched her brother threaten the merchant's son. Usually Viserys was charming and all smiles towards the families that hosted them, especially since the birth of the name The Beggar King, yet now he had his arm pressed against the boy's throat, whispering fiercely into his ear. When he let go, the merchant's son attempted to threaten Viserys with being thrown back onto the streets but her brother merely raised a regal eyebrow and gestured for the boy to run along.

"Viserys?" Dany called.

His head whipped around, his eyes wide as marbles. "Daenerys? What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you," she answered.

"Why aren't you with Ella?"

"She was acting strangely."

"Strangely?"

"I kept asking her questions and she wouldn't answer until the fifth time I asked, and she wouldn't stop smiling. Then, when I asked if we should all go for a walk again, she started talking about the merchant's son and wandered off."

"The merchant's son?" He sneered. "That skinny rat?"

"Well, he's not that much thinner than you."

Viserys levelled his sister with a hard gaze. "Well he's still the son of a merchant. He isn't fit for Ella."

"Because she's highborn?"

"What? Yes, yes, of course."

"So she has to marry someone else highborn," Dany reasoned to herself. "Would you be highborn enough for Ella?"

"The question is whether she's highborn enough for me," Viserys said, lifting his sister up onto his hip. "We're royals, Dany, the only people good enough for us are fellow royals."

Daenerys didn't like being reminded that her only potential husband was her older brother. "Rhaegar didn't marry a royal."

"His wife was the Princess of Dorne, a good alternative."

"Well Ella could be the Princess of Dorne too," Dany pointed out.

"I suppose," Viserys said.

 _ **18th of the First Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Viserys, Third of His Name.**_

In the eyes of the rightful King of Westeros, his sister's entire wedding had been intended as a slight against him. He'd tried to swallow his boiling rage quietly, but when one of Khal Drogo's men had offered Ella a seat by him in a place of honour, Viserys had to say something.

"Calm down, your Grace, they do not understand fully the respect you're due," Illryio attempted to soothe him as if he were a petulant child.

Viserys hadn't replied to the fat man whose simpering quality had finally become irritating rather than endearing, and he still hadn't forgiven the magister for giving Daenerys the dragon's eggs rather than him. He watched his sister sit rigidly by her husband observing the savagery of her new people. _Three deaths or it's a dull affair . . . What beastliness_. At least he had Ser Jorah, his first sworn sword. _Though the man looks as if he'd rather swear his sword to Dany . . . And not the steel one_. Viserys sighed, wondering if he'd have to deal with his men lusting after his sister once he returned to Westeros as well. _I suppose I can make some use of him, maybe have him teach me a few tricks with steel._ He decided he'd ask Ella what she thought of him first.

"How do you like it, your Grace?" Illyrio inquired.

"Well enough," Viserys said. "Though it stinks, here."

"I'm sure you'll bear it, my king, you are an enduring man after all."

Viserys gagged silently. _Gods, this man is shameless. I cannot believe I once wanted men to treat me like this._ Although being laughed out of doorways had almost driven him insane, Viserys found muted tolerance much easier to deal with than Illyrio's endless compliments. _If I say something stinks, you agree and that's the end of it._

"Enjoying the festivities, your Grace?" Carmella slid into the seat beside him, an amused grin adorning her face.

"Not as much as you, evidently," he replied sardonically.

"It's different," she enthused. "I can't believe I've actually attended a Dothraki wedding."

Viserys eyed her sceptically. "I imagine this is nothing compared to the feasts and tourneys thrown back in Westeros."

"Sure," Carmella responded sarcastically. "I wish I could stay with you guys, though."

"You're not staying?" Viserys frowned.

"No, your Grace, Ella of Westeros has promised to stay with me as we draw up the plans of your journey back to the throne."

"So you'll be with Illyrio?"

"Yes," she answered, not taking her eyes of the spectacle in front of her, that included two men fighting for some woman. They all looked the same to Viserys, no wonder the khal was so eager for silver-haired Dany.

For most of the 'wedding' Viserys was silent as a corpse, seething mentally rather than vocally. But when the three servants he'd given to Dany lifted her onto her gifted horse as if she were as delicate as glass, and Khal Drogo rode of with her and people watched on as if she were the Maiden on Earth all while ignoring him, he had to do something.

"Your Grace!" Illyrio exclaimed when Viserys threw his chalice of wine to the ground. Ignoring the petrified eyes following him, he stormed off.

 _ **Carmella of Westeros**_

It took Carmella a few extra moments to realise Viserys had left the group. She had been focusing intently on a conversation between two of Dany's handmaidens, trying to see how much of the rough language she understood when Viserys had thrown his cup down and left. Sighing, she rose as gracefully as possible and made to follow him. She waved to the man who'd shown an interest in her earlier as she went.

She found him a few minutes walk away pacing angrily.

"What the hell?" She said. "Why did you make a scene back there?"

"A scene?" He yelled. "I made a scene? They made a mockery of me! Forcing me to sit beneath my sister and her savages when I'm king!"

"Is that what all this is about?" She said incredulously. "She's his wife and the _khaleesi_ , no less."

"And I am the king!"

"A man who has to constantly remind others he is king is no king at all," she stated.

"It's not my fault people around me are soft-headed idiots who forget I am the last of the dragon!"

"They're not soft-headed idiots," she explained impatiently. "They're Dothraki. Do you think they know or even _care_ about Westeros and it's rightful rulers? Because that's all you are right now, the _rightful_ king. It is the Usurper who actually sits the throne."

"You dare call that dog the king—"

"It's what he is, isn't it?"

"These savages," he fumed, ignoring her. "They will cheat me of my throne while Drogo fucks my sister every night."

"You knew what they were like before you agreed to this."

"I'm the king," he said feebly. "The rightful one, and that's what matters. Why do they love Dany?"

"While you're with these people you have to understand that she has a higher rank than you."

"But—"

"She's the khaleesi. Just wait. Once you return to Westeros, you will be king and she'll be the Princess once more, but for now you have to accept that you're just brother of khaleesi."

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered. "Not again. I can't be treated like this again."

Carmella heard the child in his voice; the child who'd had to flee his home, seen his mother die, live on the streets barely able to provide for his sister, the child who simply wanted to go back to the place where everything had been good. She could also see what would happen if she left him here—since there was no way he was ever going to leave—, she could see him lashing out again at some other imagined slight, she could see Daenerys watch it happen helplessly, she could see Viserys dying because the Dothraki didn't care nor had time for the tantrums of some Western king.

 _ **III**_

"You wish to ride with the khalasar?" Illyrio's face clearly expressed his confusion.

"Yes," Carmella replied firmly, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. She knew she must stay with Illyrio. He was slippery and not to be trusted and she was almost certain he had a friend across the Narrow Sea that she was determined to find out who and Olenna had even instructed her to do so, but she knew she must stay with Viserys and keep him alive. Illyrio didn't care about the life of her friend; just so long as he had at least one Targaryen to bring him glory back in Westeros he'd be happy. Carmella wouldn't. She'd mourn the death of Viserys Targaryen.

"I do not understand—"

"You do not have to."

The magister's eyes widened at the boldness of the girl who'd not too long ago latched onto his arm and simpered shamelessly at a friend's dinner. He had not assumed this mysterious girl had such a talent for falsehoods, he wondered what else she'd told him that hadn't been true . . . "I apologise for any offence I may have given, but you seemed adamant to remain with me a week ago. What has changed?"

Carmella bit her lip and cast her eyes down as if from shame. She'd made a mistake snapping at Illyrio moments ago and now she planned to rectify it. "They are interesting, are they not my lord?"

"The Dothraki?"

The girl nodded shyly. "I wish to learn the language and see the Dothraki Sea. It would be a tale my siblings would delight in hearing when I return home."

"I see," the man was not as convinced of her lie as Carmella had wanted him to be.

"And—" she decided to add another layer to the lie she'd constructed for Illyrio. "Ser Jorah will be there. He is—interesting, is he not?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont, from the Bear Islands in the North," Illyrio recalled. "What is it about this man that interests you?"

"I have always respected and admired knights, my lord. And he is from the North—" she hesitated, allowing the man to think that the North was where she originated from. "The Northern always produce the most honourable of knights."

Now, Illyrio winked at her, fully hoodwinked. "I hear what you are saying Ella of Essos. I will allow you to remain here with your _knight_ ," he emphasied the word, which caused Carmella to wonder if the fat man thought Jorah was more than a knight to her. _He cannot think him to be my kin, surely, he is wrinkled and brow-beaten and I am anything but!_ Aloud she merely said, "You are a kind man and I know that the king will reward you beyond your wildest dreams once he comes to the throne."

 _ **9th of the Eighth Month of 286 AC**_

 _ **Lady Carmel Tyrell**_

"Come back here Garlan, you bloody pig!" Carmel of Highgarden swore, as she chased after her grinning brother.

"You'll have to catch me first," he teased, swinging her stolen practice sword above his head.

"Trust me, I will," she muttered darkly to herself, urging her legs forwards.

Her brother Garlan was skilled with a sword and a charming smile, but Carmel had always been faster, her lithe figure and long legs deemed it so. It was how she often escaped a lecture from her elder brother— _though not by much,_ she'd always argued—when he caught her play fighting with the stableboys or selling her odd trinkets by the market stall for money to buy herself the sword her parents wouldn't provide. As expected, Carmel soon caught up to her brother and wrestled him to the ground.

"I'll kill you one day, Garlan, I mean it!"

"No you don't," he responded happily, surrendering the sword. "You love me too much."

Carmel stuck her tongue out but did not deny his words. Garlan was her favourtie brother by miles, even if she only had the three, and Loras and her barely ever spoke. Garlan didn't scold her and would often help her sneak out of God-forsaken lessons with the septa; and whenever the prospect of Carmel's future marriage arrangements arose, Garlan was always the first to object to them, stating that his sister would live with him in Highgarden forever. Willas often responded to this with a roll of his eyes and, "Lord help me if I have to put up with the two of you the rest of my life." Willas was funny like that. _Will's good too, he always buys me nice things and mocks the lords who come to see father, but he's nothing compared to Garlan._

"I, however don't," Olenna Tyrell and her eldest grandson appeared before the two. "You are meant to be in lessons, Garlan," she stated.

"Ah yes, I've just remembered," he said quickly. "Curse my memory," he added as he jogged off.

Carmel may have accused him of leaving her alone to deal with the lecture and punishment sure to come had it been Mother or Father to find them, but since it had been Grandmother instead, she did not begrudge him for she'd had done the same. Olenna Tyrell was not a woman to be trifled with, even by her own grandchildren.

"Fighting with Garlan, again?" Willas raised his eyebrows at her. "Why do you insist on disobeying Mother and Father?"

She clenched her jaw biting back her tongue. It was moments like this that forced her to name Garlan her favourite sibling. In their younger years, before her seventh birthday, Willas had been her favourite, they'd explored together, laughed together and followed Olenna around together with Garlan more often than not being left alone as he trained with his sword or got up to mischief with whomsoever, but it was on Willas' eighth birthday when he'd also began reading religiously that Grandmother had 'taken him under her wing' to prepare him for his future as Lord of Highgarden. She'd been excluded from this and forced to attend lessons with the septa alone rather than with the maester and Willas. It was during her empty hours with no Will to explore with that Carmel realised she had another brother. Lucky for her Garlan turned out to be ten times as fun.

"Run along Will, I'll deal with our little rose," Olenna said.

Carmel allowed a smug smile onto her face as her brother walked off.

"What have I told you off this boisterous behaviour?" The woman said tiredly. "It is not becoming of a lady."

"Why ask a question if you're going to answer it yourself," the girl quipped.

Olenna laughed. "For effect, of course. Something you'd know if you spent your time wisely and not gallivanting around with Garlan."

"And what would spending my time wisely be?"

"Well for starters reading a bit more. Attending all your lessons with the septa. Learning from me."

"I don't want to be you though."

"And what's wrong with me? I'm the closest thing you'll get to the freedom you lust over. Women in our positions must seek power more subtly than our male counterparts. Where Garlan can swing a sword, you must adorn a smile, where Willas can command an army, you must command your husband."

Carmel had heard these words before. She usually chose to ignore them, but for once the words struck deep. Unless she truly meant to live forever at Higharden, she would surely have to marry, and if she had to become some Lady, she'd much prefer to be a Lady Olenna rather than her pious and sweet Lady Alerie. "I do not know how to do those things. It's tedious and boring. But when I spar with Garlan—"

"I will teach you, my sweetling, all you had to do is ask."

"I want to learn how to defend myself _properly_ , not just with courtesy and charm."

"You have much to learn, my dear," Olenna said, pulling her granddaughter close to her side. "A willfull lady can do much more harm than a pointy sword. Consider that your first lesson."

Olenna's lessons failed to interest or engage Carmel much, yet once she began to see how others viewed a lady who fancied herself a knight she began paying a bit more attention.


	6. Chapter 6

_**5th of the Second Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Carmella of Westeros**_

"He _is_ kind to me, my sun-and-stars," Daenerys assured her friend.

"I am glad to hear it," Carmella responded. "Maybe the marriage will not need to be annulled in the future then," she said this in High Valyrian so as to lessen the risk of being overheard.

"I am not so sure of that," Dany replied, in her mother tongue as well. "What place will there be for me in Westeros with a horde of Dothraki at my back?"

"I suppose you are right."

"I think I am going to stop here," Dany mused. "Go for a walk, give my loins a rest."

"You're the khaleesi," Carmella shrugged. "Do as you like."

"Ser Jorah," Daenerys called. "Order the horde to stop."

"Yes khaleesi," the solemn man answered.

It wasn't long after this that Carmella saw Viserys storming ahead, presumably to argue with his sister about being commanded. She sighed; for the past few days Viserys had seemed to be getting along better with the new situation, taking advantage of the knight in his midst by learning how to handle his borrowed sword despite the shame she was sure erupted in him at having to ask for help.

"Where are you going?" She called, urging her horse forward. "Viserys!"

"What do you want Ella?" He snapped upon sight of her, startling Carmella with his clipped tone. "I feel like you're my bloody mother the way you've been following me."

"Well if you were capable of managing without me I wouldn't have to," she retorted, a little bit hurt at his attitude towards her.

"I can manage just fine, Carmella," the use of her name and not her alias shocked the girl into anger.

"Really? So what are you going to do now? Yell at Dany because she wanted to rest for a while? Do you know how stupid you look? If you threaten her, Drogo's blood-riders will finish you."

This caused Viserys to stop. "So they've turned you against me as well," he accused. "First my sister and now—"

"You're mad," she spat, knowing exactly what those words would do to him. "And delusional. Nobody's commanding or slighting you because nobody cares," she continued. "Daenerys told the horde to stop so that she could rest. Not to insult you."

"You dare speak to me like that," he whispered softly. "Your king and the last of the dragon—"

"I don't see a king," she sneered. "Or a dragon. I see a jealous little boy."

"I will have your tongue for that!"

"Go ahead. Your Grace."

With that Carmella rode on towards where she assumed Daenerys was. She had no idea why she'd treated Viserys like that, provoking him when she was meant to be keeping him calm and collected, but hearing how much he took her help for granted and how easily he dismissed her had ignited a flame in her heart. I don't care who he is, you don't speak to me in that manner when I've kept you and your sister alive for eight years. When I'm doing my best to keep you alive now. She supposed she would have to apologise later; Viserys had been in the wrong but she'd been spiteful and vindictive to prey on his insecurities. _I may have just destroyed all trust he had in me._ She was glad, at least, that the argument had happened in the Common Tongue so nobody will have heard exactly what she said. _Good. I'd never forgive myself if I caused the entire horde to tease him about being mad._

 ** _Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone_**

Daenerys did not mind living with the Dothraki. Her legs ached, her hands bared painful blisters, and her inner thighs were rubbed raw. Most days she could not even rise from her bed unless Irri or Jhiqui were there to help her, it did not help that Drogo would visit her each night and proceed to riding her into painful exhaustion, yet she still liked being outdoors and riding freely. She didn't blame Drogo either, she was his wife and by rights he was allowed to take her how he pleased. _And he does not even understand a half of what I say, he probably does not even know I do not like it._ Daenerys knew that Carmella found it strange that she bore no ill will towards her or Viserys for essentially selling her to such a rough man who did not seem to treat Daenerys with any kindness, but Dany was not angry. She knew it was what had to be done and she saw the kindness in Drogo even if her family did not. _And if anyone is to blame, it is the Usurper and his dogs, they took the throne from my brother and forced me to live in exile. It is them I will burn._

Nobody really ever saw the harsh side of Daenerys. Viserys, despite his love for her, would only ever see her as his pliant little sister and Carmella, though she loved the girl, was always too busy attempting to control Viserys to see the darkness in Dany. _I don't want them to see,_ she thought, _I want Robert Baratheon and Jaime Lannister to see it._

"Khaleesi, what do you wish to eat?" Irri asked.

"Is there any lamb?" Daenerys said.

"Just horse and dog," Irri replied. "Doreah said she saw rabbit."

"Dany?" Carmella's voice rang from outside the tent, and Irri visibly glowered. "Can I come in?"

"I don't know, can you?" Daenerys jested.

"I brought lamb," Carmella announced, throwing the girl a slab of meat that Dany caught deftly.

"Sick of the horse?"

"Don't even tell me about it," Carmella shuddered. "I have to ride them all day and eat them all night. It's endless."

"It is our way," Irri said tightly.

"Irri," Doreah scolded. "Lady Ella meant no harm, she and khaleesi just jest."

"Yes Irri, Ella is a good friend of mine," Daenerys said in Dothraki. "why don't you three go and rest for some time?"

The servants understood the veiled dismissal and left, Irri lingering longer than the others.

"I don't know why she dislikes you so," Daenerys complained.

"I'm competition," Carmella shrugged, sitting cross legged by Dany's bed. "It's just a girl thing. People used to do it all the time back home to women close to my mother, as they all longed to be a bosom-buddies with the Lady of—and you're the khaleesi, so she obviously wishes to be your closest friend."

"Is that all?" Dany frowned, wishing Carmella had slipped up and revealed what House she came from.

"Well that and I'm clearly not Dothraki. She probably doesn't want you associating with anyone from Westeros for fear of you turning your back on Dothraki customs. Silly really."

Daenerys marvelled at how easily Carmella could read people. The lady had often sat with Viserys and talked him through how she did it and Dany had seen the improvement in her brother, but nobody had ever taught Dany and so she had settled herself with watching from the sidelines and trying to pick up tricks. _All I've ever managed to learn is never to trust someone who always smiles, don't believe in a man's good intentions when he has a house full of slaves, and never reveal too much._ Daenerys supposed that was all she needed to know since it was Viserys who would rule not her.

"They've been kind to me," Dany simply.

"According to you, everyone's kind. It's sweet how you try to see the good in people Dany, but you don't want it to become naivety," Carmella warned.

"But what am I, if not naïve? I'm barely fourteen, I've been sheltered my entire life—"

"Did you just say you've been sheltered your entire life?" Carmella's voice was low, something Dany associated with anger.

"I didn't mean to offend, it's been more than sheltered obviousl—"

"It's been anything but!" Carmella exclaimed. "Your life has been hard and arduous, something I never experienced when I was six. Sheltered is my sister, who sips sweetwine every day and hands her favours to our brother at his tourneys," she spat. " Who has never slept in anything but feather filled beds."

"I—I don't—"

"Dany you could never be truly naïve. You've experienced and seen so much more than half the population of Westeros, you've seen kindness and greed and as young as you are you know how to find either of the two in people. You're not easy to fool as you've seen people lie and scheme and you've managed to maintain a gentle heart throughout all of it. However, because your brother _has_ done his best to keep you away from the more harsh realities of life, you don't always realise the hidden motives in people and choose to focus on the positive. It's an admirable trait but easily exploited."

Dany was in shock. After everything, Dany had always treasured her life and thought it was quite privileged compared to what it might've been. _I might not have had Viserys, I might've been kidnapped and raped, or worse, I might never had had Carmella who kept me happy and delighted when Viserys could not._ Daenerys, despite thinking that she couldn't read people, sensed that Carmella's vehemence came from other issues. Particularly with her family. _It is the first she has ever mentioned a sister to me. I cannot wait to tell Viserys, hopefully she will not mind._ "I did not know you thought so highly of me."

"I think very highly of you. You will prove a wise and kind princess and a smart choice as heir to the throne," Carmella said earnestly. "Just remember that not everyone is as kind as you are."

"Why do you assume the worse then? You are kind as well," Dany thought of all the times Carmella would slip orphans on the street the last of her food, or rescue injured animals only for Viserys to roll his eyes at her 'girliness', or sob when she thought no-one was looking every time she faced some tragedy or another.

"I have to," Carmella answered gravely. "If you look for the worst in people you can protect yourself from it."

Daenerys considered the sentence her fist lesson in the courtly politics that apparently plagued her future home.

 ** _Lady Margaery Tyrell_**

Margaery loved her sister. More so since three years ago when her grandmother had told her the true tale of Carmel. Or Carmella as Garlan once called her. Garlan _alone_ , Willas had been quick to correct her when Margaery had attempted to refer to their sister as such. Margaery knew this was a lie. She may have only been five verging on six when her sister fled but she could remember that nearly everyone called her Carmella, besides her mother and Willas apparently. _I remember that she was loud, and fast and almost never home. She and Garlan were always together, like Loras and I._ Garlan did not know of the plot nor did Loras for Olenna feared the two were far too impulsive to be trusted and the former likely to run off to Essos to find her; as he had attempted to do when first informed that Carmel had fled with some Dornishman who'd seduced her. _That was a clever tale, a nice way to create a block between us and our neighbour to the south. Willas was told though, he knew before me even._ Margaery and her eldest brother loved each other dearly, but were not close, not until she'd turned thirteen. Before becoming privy to her family's plan to reinstate a Targaryen rule over the kingdoms, Willas had always been a loner to her, more content to spend time with the maester or in the library than with his younger siblings. Everyone had claimed he'd been that way since birth, but Margaery had always suspected something else. _And now I know, he lost his sister for some scheme he didn't even support_. It was harder for Willas than it was Garlan, even though Margaery knew that the latter and Carmel were closer. _Garlan thinks she is happy, wherever she is, thinks she lives the life she always wanted with the man of her dreams, and honours her memory by scorning the Dornish. But Willas knows where she is, knows she lives hand to mouth with lord knows who doing lord knows what to survive. Which is why he spends so much time alone, in grief and worry, even though Carmel has never complained in her letters._ It was why often, when Highgarden could spare no coin or find no trustworthy deliverers it was Willas who sent money for his sister, out of his own pocket, with his own ravens that Margaery prayed were as well trained as everyone claimed. Despite this, Carmel's letters to Willas had grown sparse over the years while her letters to Margaery had increased. The maid of five and ten loved letters from her kin, finding the girls brusque way of speaking and sarcastic wit exceedingly amusing, and had mourned the letters greatly when she had to burn them. However, where it had once been expected to hear word from Carmel thrice or four times a year, they were now lucky to hear from her once. After she had left Volantis, Carmel had contacted her family maybe four or six times, and even then only asking after money and the state of King's Landing, never after Garlan as she used to, or Willas. Olenna hadn't spared a care over it and Willas refused to discuss it but Margaery feared they'd lost Carmel. _Lost her to the dragon king and his sister. She sees them as family, not us._ Margaery had come to realise this when she read her sister's angry words at the lack of concern Olenna seemed to have for Daenerys, and how them forgetting to send her money meant the girl had to starve. Margaery wondered if Carmel would be this angry if it were _her_ in _Dany's_ place. Yet when Margaery tried to share these fears with her father or grandmother they dismissed them easily, stating that Carmel was only there for her family. For the Tyrell's. They'd not even batted an eye when they heard word that this Daenerys girl was to wed some Dothraki horselord. Margaery had fumed, especially when she read between the lines to find that Carmel was more upset at the fact that Dany would have to wed for duty and not love than the fact that it threw a spanner into their plans. _She acts as if every girl in Westeros isn't expected to do the same thing. I'm supposed to marry my brother's gay lover and I am not complaining, and if she is married, then who is to wed Willas?_

"Easy Marg," her father had comforted her. "Carmel assures us the marriage is to be annulled upon the king's return to Westeros. If not, I am sure the man will fall in battle before we have true need for Daenerys."

It angered her. Everyone treated this Targaryen plan so nonchalantly with nobody expecting it to come to fruition for the next five years. _Does Carmel know_ I _am to stay wed to_ Renly Baratheon _for_ five years _? Five years to keep the throne ready for her and her Targaryen friends? Does she care that once he is dead I will still be soiled, unable to make another suitable match? Does she care that Renly doesn't even deserve to die, that once he does it will wreck Loras, her_ true _brother?_ Margaery suspected she did not. She loved Carmel nonetheless, and respected the girl infinitely for the sacrifice she had made for their House. But her love and respect didn't quell her hurt feeling and longing for the sister she'd lost.


	7. Chapter 7

**_30th of the Tenth Month of 293 AC_**

"Tell me more," Carmella urged quietly, her voice choked.

"My lady," the Westerosi boy whispered.

"Tell me more of my . . . Family. Please, Tom."

"Okay," he said unsurely. "Highgarden still flourishes, it remains the most populous and fertile of all seven kingdoms. Your grandmother is now known as the Queen of Thorns."

Carmella chuckled softly at that. "And Garlan? Willas?"

"Garlan the Great," Tom said. "A nickname given to him by his older brother. He is a talented knight."

"He's been knighted?" Carmella gasped.

"So I've heard," he shrugged, nervous now. "Willas remains the victim of scheming mothers attempting to hoist the daughters onto the heir to Highgarden."

"Margaery?" Her little sister had quickly become someone Carmella treasured, even if they hadn't spoke in years and despite the fact that Carmella still harboured some bitterness at the life of leisure Margaery was inevitably leading while Dany was suffering.

"Beautiful," he confirmed. "The life and soul of the city. Her and her brother Loras are nigh on inseparable and loved by nearly everyone they come across."

"Loras, I forgot Loras," she said quietly.

"He's a character. I believe he's been sent to squire or page at Storm's End for Lord Renly Baratheon."

"They are all so grown," Carmella said. "Margaery and I might've been close had I stayed. We might have been best friends."

"My lady," the boy ventured. "Why not return to them? I know Lord Willas aches for your return."

 _Willas, oh Willas how I wish I could see you once more, if only to apologise for making your life hell._ Lately Carmella had began missing her family more than usual, she suspected it was because they weren't on the streets anymore begging for money so she had more time to spend thinking about her lost loved ones. _They're not lost, I know where they are_. Yet she couldn't return to them. She couldn't leave Dany. Or Viserys.

"I cannot go back, I must finish what I started here," she replied faintly. "Thank you, Tom. It has been a pleasure seeing you once more."

"And I you, my lady, the days don't seem as fun without you running amuck stealing the practice swords."

"I was such a child then," she smiled. "I do hope you are knighted someday Tom," and despite her next actions, Carmella really did mean it.

Tom had been a good friend of hers back in the Reach, a well-intentioned boy, nephew to the master-at-arms and always had a smile to offer Carmella when she came seeking to join in on their practice. He never turned his nose up at me like the others or attempted to flirt with me. She had no clue how he'd ended up in the Free Cities for she felt his story about looking for his rogue mother was a lie. _He was my friend._ Was. Because he had to die, Carmella had told him _everything_ on an emotional whim and though she liked him well enough she had no idea who he'd tell, and word couldn't reach the capital that Lady Carmel Tyrell was actually aiding the exiled Targaryens and not living in sin with a Dornishman. _I wish I'd never seen him, then I wouldn't have to do this._ The poison she'd placed in his flask—which she could now see him taking a swig from—would kill him before he ever made it back on his boat. She had the antidote. She could save him if she ran quick enough. Which she did, only not in Tom's direction. In Viserys'. She missed his teasing smirk.

 _ **5th of the Fifth Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Carmella of Westeros**_

Three months with the Dothraki had seen the Carmella, Viserys and Dany all changed. Daenerys, now completely enamoured with her khal wore the Dothraki clothes, rode as well as a native and spoke the language as if it were her first. She wore her title with honour, and Carmella had heard whispers from the khaleesi's handmaidens and the other women she'd befriended that it was Dany who truly ruled the khalasaar, that she whispered into his ear each night as they made love in the Western Way; the thought both disturbed and pleased Carmella, for she was glad her sister in all ways that mattered had come into her own, yet slightly put off by the fact that her maidenhead had been broken by a brute like Khal Drogo. Though she may not have noticed, Carmella herself had drastically changed, she hadn't completely adopted the Dothraki attire, but she had abandoned her scanty silk gowns and no longer saw riding horses as a painful chore but instead something she did easily. Although she'd not taken to it as well Dany, Carmella spoke the language well enough to make a few friends of her own amongst the khalasaar and often spent her time with the children, teaching them some words of the Common Tongue and the history of the Targaryens, that now some of the older women had taken to listening, fascinated with the lands across the west that their silver queen had been borne from; Carmella had also been able to put some of her grandmother's lessons to use and _convince_ some men to teach her how to use a bow and arrow—to the intense dismay of Viserys—and although children as young as six possessed better aim than her, Carmella was steadily improving. The largest change, however, was the closeness between Viserys and herself. Since Dany was almost always preoccupied with something or the other, the young king was now Carmella's closest friend whom she spent most of her time with, and after watching how his moods would take funny turns whenever someone unintentionally offended him by regarding Daenerys as more important, she'd decided they must share a tent once more so he wasn't tempted to do something silly in the night. It had shocked both Viserys and his sworn sword, Jorah, when she'd made a bed by his one night. Nothing dishonourable had happened, yet Dany had informed Carmella that most thought she and Viserys were lovers. _Lovers_ , she'd laughed in her head, _tolerators more like._ Yet deep down she knew the thought was untrue. The months they'd spent together had revived the withering friendship and it was now uncommon for Viserys and Carmella to have an argument. Not since that last one all those moons ago . . . It was Viserys who was most changed though. Carmella had always seen to it that he never succumbed to the madness that plagued his family and remained with his wits, but she'd never once imagined the Viserys she knew now. He took all her advice readily; respected the Dothraki, rode _behind_ Dany, ate their food without complaint, wore their clothes, and sometimes even offered a gift of a bottle of wine to Dany and Drogo arguing that maybe flattery would persuade the khal to grant him his armies quicker, but on top of that Viserys made smart moves of his own: he trained with his knight twice a day for hours on end, he pumped Carmella for all the information she had of Westeros, merged it with his own and had taken to writing it all down, and had even begun planning his invasion of Westeros, though Carmella knew he couldn't truly plan it without her telling him what House she was from and the armies they'd offer.

"Do you not wish to spar with us, my lady?" Ser Jorah asked the daydreaming girl. "I imagine handling a sword will prove much more useful than a bow once you return home."

"No, I prefer to watch you," she replied winking, causing the solemn knight to blush.

"Don't tease him Ella," Viserys scolded her playfully. "Why won't you train with us? I didn't think you to be one afraid of a challenge."

Carmella laughed loudly. Viserys had become competent enough with his sword but he hadn't managed to best Ser Jorah yet, which in Carmella's eyes meant he wasn't any good. _Jorah is a fine knight and fights well, but he is nothing compared to what Garlan must be if he has nurtured the promise he showed when he was younger, or the likes of Jaime Lannister. If Viserys can't best Jorah then he is no challenge to me._ Carmella said none of this though. Nobody was aware of how well she fought with a sword. She'd trained endlessly with Garlan when she was young learning the standard ways of sword-fighting and then trained some more with Oberyn and his bastards on her way to the Targaryen siblings, adding a more sinister edge to her style. She'd even made sure to keep her skills as polished as she could in secrecy during her time on the streets or in borrowed beds, and found that though she wasn't quite as fast, she was still considerably good. Certainly good enough to best Viserys. _I still prefer the spear though._

"A lady has no use for a sword," she quipped eventually.

At this point in time Jorah had bested Viserys, the point of his weapon held threateningly over the king's throat. "I hardly believe you one to spare a worry over what a lady should have use for," Jorah said wryly.

Carmella shrugged. "Maybe not before, but as my return home looms closer and closer I must begin reacquainting myself with the social expectations people will have of me."

"Well I hardly think flirting with a knight old enough to be your father is what society will expect of you," Viserys said grouchily, brushing himself off.

Ser Jorah looked unsurely at Carmella, no doubt wondering if he'd somehow offended the king, whose ugly temper hadn't reared itself in weeks. Carmella though stared unwavering at her friend. "I was hardly flirting."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was harmless teasing. Ser Jorah knows I only jest with him."

"I hope so," he grumbled. "I highly doubt your parents will be impressed if you show up with some Northern knight's bastard."

At this, Jorah gasped. Carmella didn't blame him, it was plain to all that the withered knight held feelings only for Daenerys.

"Your Grace, I would never presume to touch your honoured guest."

"I should hope so. I can barely stomach the thought of Ella holed up in the North on your islands."

Carmella decided to have some fun. "For all you know, I could be Northern myself."

Viserys scoffed. "Sure, and I'm a horse."

"You don't think I could be?" She frowned.

"No, definitely not. Anyone from the North would've suffered in the intense heat and you've never once complained. Secondly, you know a lot about poisons and the like, something I know is not privy to those in the North, and lastly, you don't hold the Watch in high esteem, not the way Jorah does, which also tells me you're as Southern as they come."

Carmella gaped. _My my, my little king has grown_. She couldn't help the feeling of pride that swelled in her heart. _Even I hadn't thought of that._ "It seems you have me figured out," she said. "But if you're right and I'm not Northern, it only means that Ser Jorah's home is all the more exotic to me."

Viserys grit his teeth. "That's beside the point. I made an oath to bring you home as I found you; unwed and a maiden."

"I'm quite sure _I_ was the one who found _you_ ," she retorted.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes.

Bemused Ser Jorah watched the two with wide eyes. "You both bicker like a married couple," he said.

"He only bickers with me because I'm right," Carmella sang jokingly.

"And she only bickers because she's a miserable wench," he said.

"I'll have you for that!" She exclaimed, running after him.

 _ **Ser Jorah Mormont**_

"They're something else aren't they?" Daenerys appeared out of nowhere.

"Truly," he answered stiffly, uncomfortable in the woman's presence. "Do they not see how in love with each other they are?" He blurted involantarily.

"Nope. They both continue to deny it," she replied.

"Will you tell them?"

"No, I will leave them. I'm sure my brother is betrothed to someone else for her family's swords. It's best to leave it, spare them from heartbreak down the line."

Jorah regarded the girl, who looked wise beyond her years. "For all we know she could be the girl he's betrothed to. I don't know a family that would send their daughter to an exiled king for nothing in return. Perhaps they've instructed her to seduce him."

"Huh," Daenerys said. "You could be right, Ser Jorah."

"Dany!" Viserys called. "Come and speak reason to Ella!"

Chuckling, the khaleesi stalked off, shaking her head good-naturedly. Ser Jorah watched her walk away, savouring how she'd said his name. _Stop it, she is not yours to lust over. She is a girl, young enough to be your daughter. A princess! And His Grace would kill me . . ._ It had taken Jorah a while to respect the king, what with his rather short and horrid temper and unpleasantly high sense of self-entitlement, but it had happened. Eventually. He'd soon come to see the king's better qualities; his resourcefulness and perseverance being the ones the knight admired the most. _Three months he has been at this sword training, and he never complains, not when I throw him to the ground, not when the other men snigger at him, and he is clearly clever too, always asking about the North and the Wall._ King Viserys was steadily acquiring more and more of his knight's esteem. _He has no natural talent for the sword but he pays attention and can hold his own._ Though Jorah was quickly realising that it was Carmella's influence that brought out Viserys' attractive traits. He'd quickly come to like the girl, her quick wit and warrior spirit never failed to amuse him, and he was particularly grateful for her ability to soothe Viserys when he went into one of his funny moods. Despite her flirtations, Jorah knew the girl held no feelings for him whatsoever, and agreed with the king on that he could never see her wearing heavy furs, holed up in the North with him. _She is as Southern as they come._ Yet the girl was completely unconcerned with what others thought of her, something that would occasionally lead Jorah to believe she had wildling blood. _She fights with Drogo's men and holds her own ignoring the stares of their wives and shares a tent with His Grace ignoring the whispers of the khalasaar._ Though most did not frown upon the latter. Except Jorah at first, as he'd believed the two were secretly coupling. _Gods was I shocked to find that they did nothing worse then bump ankles._

"Ser Jorah?" Carmella stood by him, her long hair billowing in breeze. "Sorry about Viserys earlier. I'll stop the flirting now."

"It's fine, my lady," he returned.

"I know who you truly have eyes for," she said slyly. "Dany is beautiful, no?"

The knight's breath hitched in his throat. "My lady I do apologise—"

She held her hands up to stop him. "No need. I don't blame you. Just know that you will have to be much more subtle, lest Drogo finds out."

"Or His Grace," he agreed.

"I have a feeling Viserys already knows," her eyes followed the aforementioned man fondly, Jorah noticed how she bit her lip whenever Viserys would spy her watching him and wave.

"You do?"

"He is not so blind as he would have us believe," she told him.

"He's a strong man, my lady," Jorah said, so as to change the topic. "I believe he'll make a fine king," he wasn't quite sure of that as yet, but he didn't believe he'd be a bad one, _certainly much better than his sire._

"He will won't he?" Carmella turned to face the man, and he was forced to stare right into her face, something he'd staunchly avoided since learning of Viserys' affection for her.

 _Seven hells she is beautiful,_ he gripped the hilt of his sword firmly. Her eyes were a deep blue always glittering with the fire behind them, eyes that would enchant anyone she set them to, and her lips were full and deep red always pulled up in a smile around her perfectly white teeth. It was her hair though, that the man was fascinated by, he'd never seen such dark hair in his life, it was raven and glossy and almost certainly not her own. _It is part of her disguise,_ he decided, _a good part, it suits her well and is the one thing stopping me from figuring out what House she is from._ Jorah had often thought Carmella's hair to be golden, like the sun. _Maybe she is a Lannister._

"Ser Jorah?" She gripped his shoulders.

"Aye, sorry my lady," her touch was alien to him and did not make him feel as he imagined it might; _she is beautiful undoubtedly, but she is not the khaleesi._

"Well, do you? Do you think he will make a good one?"

"Make a good what?" Viserys appeared out of nowhere, arms crossed. "Unhand my knight, Carmella."

She did so hurriedly. Ser Jorah knew why: whenever the king used her full name it was always wise never to antagonise him further. "I was only asking if he thinks Robb Stark would make a good husband. I have reason to believe my parents will force me to wed him and Ser Jorah is Northern."

Ser Jorah reeled silently at how easily the lie fell off the girl's tongue; he did not think less of her for it, for he knew the truth of what she was asking would enrage the king, but he hadn't thought she had it in her. _She is dangerous,_ he quickly summarised, _most definitely a Lannister then_. Surprisingly, it made the knight like her no less. More even. "I was just about to tell my lady that I have never been acquainted with Robb Stark. I imagine he is as just and honourable as his father though," he added sourly.

"I've already told you anyways Ella, you won't be marrying the Stark boy."

Her eyes fell to the ground. "I might have to, in order to bring the North to your cause."

"I would rather force them to my cause with fire and blood than bind you to some wolf," he said harshly. "Come, Dany has invited us to dine with her tonight," he offered her his arm, which she accepted quickly but not without a witty comment.

"Is that a request or an order, Your Grace?"

"I wish I could order you about," he said as they began walking away, "would make my life much easier."

Bemused once more, Jorah watched the couple. For some reason, he did hope that Carmella was the girl the king was secretly betrothed to. It will be hard for him to find someone else so devoted to him.

 ** _Viserys, Third of His Name_**

Dinner with his sister had been hard for Viserys to bear. It always was when her handmaidens waited on her. Their concerned fussing and clear loyalty to Dany always rubbed him the wrong way; more so because once upon a time, Doreah had been his bedwarmer, had followed his every whim and now she barely spared him a glance, her eyes only for the khaleesi. _I suspect she she's attracted to my sister and all,_ he thought bitterly, _her, Ser Jorah, who else will I have to compete with my sister for?_ Even Carmella had paid Daenerys more attention than him during their dinner, braiding Dany's hair in some elaborate style to entice her husband, chatting about one of Drogo's men that apparently had a crush on Carmella and other things that girls discussed. Viserys sorely hoped Westeros would not be filled with people who'd prefer to serve his sister than him. _If it is so I may as well just give her my throne now and save myself from the disappointment._

"Hey Viserys," Carmella called from some corner in their shared tent. "Come here for a second."

He did as she asked obediently. "Yes?"

"There's a knot in my hair at the back that I can't reach," she explained. "Can you see it?"

He could. Her hair had grown long the past three months, well past her waist, and the Dothraki had no other solution than to braid it which for some reason Carmella was firmly against. "You want me to undo it?"

"Please."

Gently, he slid his fingers into her ebony locks, admiring how soft it was. The knot wasn't all that big and Viserys thought she could've reached it without his help, yet he said nothing and deftly smoothed her hair. "Want me to braid it?" He asked when he was done.

"No."

"You have to do something with it," he said. "It will only grow more knotty."

"Well I have you to get rid of the knots, don't I?" She turned to face him. "Are you all right?"

 _Should I let her change the topic?_ He asked himself. _Sure, why not? Hrr hair is a trivial matter and I would not argue over it._ "Perfectly fine," he slouched back to his bed.

"You needn't lie to me Viserys," she said. "I know that dining with Dany always . . . Affects you."

"So why ask?" He snapped.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "But talk to me. If you keep your feelings bottled up they will only fester."

"You always give wise counsel," he accused. "Yet you never follow it."

"I don't know what you mean," she answered tartly.

 _Yes you do, Ella, you always know what I mean._ He watched the girl intently for a while, as he'd grown accustomed to doing since they began sleeping together. He wished she would just tell him what House she was from, so he could truly begin planning his conquest, yet whenever he broached the subject she refused. Maybe he would force the issue if he didn't care for her. But he did, so instead he respected her wishes and consoled himself with the fact that whatever family she came from, they hadn't seen in years, and he had. He knew at least that they were a powerful House, maybe Wardens of somewhere even, since Carmella often spoke of wedding Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell, which could only happen if Carmella were a suitable match. _Suitable match or not she won't marry him. I can't have her so far away from me._

"You never speak to me about your feelings," he continued. "It's always me that has my every thought analysed."

"You're to be my king, I have to make sure you're worthy to sit the throne."

This irritated him. "Worthy or not, it belongs to me."

"Sure," she said, clearly not wanting to argue.

Viserys didn't mind, he'd rather not argue either. Which was a rarity in itself. Anyhow, the reminder that Carmella wouldn't support his claim to the throne unless she thought him deserving often comforted him.

"So tell me," he ordered.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me about some of your thoughts and feelings."

She laughed. "That's not exactly how it works."

"Fine. Tell me why you're so accepting of a possible union between you and Stark."

"An alliance with the North would ensure the Lannisters couldn't ever threaten you."

"You've told me already that the North won't call their banners against the Usurper. Him and Ned Stark are like brothers."

Carmella bit her lip and Viserys knew she was hiding something. "But there is mo love lost between the Starks and the Lannisters. Lady Catelyn Stark imprisoned Lord Tyrion Lannister thinking he'd ordered the murder against her now crippled son."

"What?" He was enraged now. "You've told me _none_ of this!"

"You were happy," she said, and the mere ridiculousness of the statement stopped Viserys in his tracks. "You were laughing and being rational and I didn't want Westeros to ruin it."

"Westeros is my kingdom, Ella," he forced the nickname through his teeth. "Everything that happens in it, I must know."

"I know, Your Grace, I apologise," she bit her lip again. "I have reason to believe that the Usurper will not live very long."

Viserys' heart stopped. "Robert is dead?"

"I am not sure," she said. "My sister's letters were heavily coded and very ambiguous. But she believes Robert will not live long, that his wife plots against his life."

Viserys left Carmella in their tent for an hour. He'd had no idea what else to do. He was heartily glad when she did not pursue him. He neared his sister's tent, hoping maybe to confide his feelings to her despite how weird the notion made him feel, he was ready to abandon his idea of burdening Dany with all his messed up feelings when he heard the groans from her tent. Hearing his sister moan in pleasure only added to Viserys' frustrations. _I cannot even find a release myself now that Ella has gone and moved into my tent._ He stalked off to some lone wood and sat by a tree for a while, beginning to understand how the Northern could pray to them.

When he returned, he was significantly calmer. Yet he felt hollow. Luckily, Carmella had fallen asleep so he did not have to speak to her.

 _ **7th of the Fifth Month 299 AC**_

"Are you okay?" Carmella asked this two nights later.

"It's been two days," Viserys told her calmly. "I'm over it."

"I know you won't ever be over it," she said this into his neck, for they were cuddled up together as Carmella had lost her bundle of blankets in the last raid. "If someone killed you or Dany I don't think I'd ever be over it."

"Well I am," he lied. "Good riddance to him. I still have his sons and loving wife to exact my revenge."

For once Carmella didn't argue that the Usurper's sons were innocent of their father's crimes, the same way Viserys was innocent of Aerys', still he heard her say it all the same.

"Thank you," she said. "For forgiving me. I was afraid you'd never trust me again."

Viserys held her tighter, praying she couldn't feel his growing erection. "You made a mistake. I've made many and you've seen fit to forgive me and continue to lend your family's support."

"That's true," he felt her smile on his skin. "We haven't done this in a while. If Ser Jorah were to see he'd faint," she giggled.

Viserys still didn't like the friendship between his knight and his friend. In fact, he hated it more than he hated the fact that the knight lusted over Daenerys.

"He knows I would never dishonour you."

"The khalsaar don't," she pointed out.

The fact that nearly everyone thought Viserys and Carmella were fucking didn't bother the man. None spoke the Common Tongue so even should they ever find themselves amongst Westerosi nobility they'd have no way of telling anyone, especially not Carmella's parents. It also meant that none of the men tried courting Carmella. Viserys was not foolish enough to think the protectiveness he felt for the girl in his arms was brotherly, he knew that over the past three months he'd somehow managed to become attracted to her once more. _It's worse now,_ he thought as he stroked her hair, _because now it's not purely physical, now I like her, I only want her to speak with me, to laugh only with me._ He sincerely hoped Carmella had noticed his feelings for her growing, and went to bed every night wishing that she would say something about it. She never did. She would simply chatter girlishly with him about the day's events, ask if he was feeling okay, then drift off to sleep in his arms. She seemed oblivious to his attraction and so he never mentioned it though he wanted to. _If I marry her now, then once I get to Westeros the Great Lords would have no choice but to accept it and I would offend nobody. Stop it, Viserys, she clearly doesn't want you, she wants freedom._ Life as the Queen would offer Carmella none of the freedom she loved.

"If he dies, what then? I was always meant to take my throne from _him_ ," Viserys almost whispered, half-hoping the girl had fallen asleep. "I wanted to push my sword through his thieving heart for what he did to my brother. Cersei Lannister cannot steal that pleasure from me."

"He's a drunken wreck," Carmella said after a while. "He didn't deserve to be slain by you. Let his wife bear the burden of murdering her king and her husband."

"It wouldn't have been a burden," he growled. "It was my deepest wish to kill him! I longed to be the last thing he saw."

"I know," Carmella said softly. "But you must remember that in combat Robert may have bested you despite his obesity. He's had years of fighting and hunting and melee's to hone his skill, and you've had only a few months."

"I don't care," he ignored the truth of her words and focused on the feelings of her hands around his. Viserys almost felt as though it were his wife comforting him. His lady wife assuring him that he was infinitely better than Robert Baratheon.

"I do. Dany would. And you are distantly related anyways, you would not want to kill him. The kinslayer is a cursed person."

"He killed Rhaegar," the sentence wrapped itself tightly around Viserys' chest. "They were kin."

"And look," she urged. "Rhaegar is free, living forever in paradise with his wife and children, and Robert Baratheon has become a fat, drunken joke amongst the realm and will probably die at the hands of his own queen."

Her words managed to soften him somewhat. Viserys would always dream of murdering Robert by his own hand, no matter how cursed the kinslayer is, if only to avenge his brother, but Carmella's words helped him cope with the fact that he might not get the chance to. "You should've told me," he said again. "Never hide things like this from me again."

"I didn't know what you would do," she protested. "I thought you might demand your army if you found out and ruin the progress you've made here."

"I'm not stupid, Ella," he said, though deep down he suspected he might've done some sort of folly if he'd discovered the news under different circumstances.

"I know."

"If he is dead, his son will ascend, but it will most likely be the Lannister bitch who rules in his stead."

"A boy king will make it ever so easy for you to take over,"she rose slightly, her voice seductive and sly. "No true man would want to follow a boy or his mother, they want a proper king. A _dragon_."

 _Gods I love it when she talks like this,_ Carmella's whispered words travelled straight to Viserys' groin.

"And with Robert gone, Ned Stark's loyalty to the throne will weaken, especially if the Lannister's continue offending his family."

"Exactly," Carmella smiled widely. "With the North and possibly Dorne on your side, along with the men from my family, the Lannister armies won't stand a chance. Robert's death is a _blessing_ , Viserys."

Viserys wondered how she could always think so rationally, how she never let emotions cloud the bigger picture. It was a skill he longed to have but could never develop. Word of the Usurper's possible death had only angered him, reminded him of his dead brother, yet for Carmella, it was an opportunity, a _blessing_. Rhaegar still weighed heavily on his mind, yet his hollowness had subsided and made room for the excitement he felt. _It is all coming together,_ Viserys beamed, _Mother I will do you proud, I will put a crown back on Dany's head, I will bring her home. And the Usurper might still be alive, Ella wasn't sure, so I might still get to crush his chest the way he did my brother's._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Lady Margaery Tyrell**_

"He is _dead_ , Grandmother, what are we to do?" Margaery demanded.

"Keep calm, dear," Olenna advised, though she looked rather frightened as well.

"We could declare for Stannis," Willas offered.

"No," Mace said. "Stannis is wed already and hard as iron."

Margaery silently agreed. "Let us wait, then," her mother's soft voice suggested. "Stannis will no doubt march for King's Landing. Let us wait and see and declare for the winners as the Lannister's did in Robert's Rebellion."

Margaery did not like the idea of waiting. _A war rages about us and they want to sit and wait._ She did not like the idea but she understood that it was the best, _if we lose too many of our men, what will we have to offer the Targaryen king when he comes._ "What about the North?" She said.

"Come off it, Marg," Willas said. "We cannot declare for them. They seek to set themselves apart from the realm and we seek to see it whole and under the rule of one of our own."

"Your brother is right," for once, Olenna sounded her age. "If Carmel were here I may just sack the plan and let us live out our days safe and sound away from politics."

"We can always call her back," Willas said eagerly.

"You know she won't come back," his mother intoned. "Not unless those two Targaryens are with her."

Everyone in the room knew the statement was true and secretly hated their exiled monarch for it. "Has anyone told her of Robert's death? Of Ned Stark's death?"

"I sent a veiled letter a few weeks ago," Margaery answered.

"I sent a very clear one two nights ago," Willas said. "I told her things were happening fast and to begin making moves towards Westeros."

"So soon?" Mace inquired. "I'd have her wait a year or two."

Margaery sighed; if it were up to her father he'd leave Carmella in Essos for another fifty years. In the Free Cities, away from harm. "She needs to prepare, Father. We should send her the money for the sellswords."

"We'll have to wait and see. Oberyn was supposed to travel with the coin, but he insists on travelling to the capital and sending his bastards in his stead."

"Being a bastard doesn't automatically make them scum, Grandmother."

"I don't need a lecture Willas," she griped. "He plans on sending his niece as well. Princess Arianne, so that she might become acquainted with her betrothed."

Margaery held her tongue tightly. Her family didn't appreciate hearing her views on the betrothal contract between Viserys and Arianne. Her brother looked at her expectantly nonetheless. "Go on, I can see you biting your tongue."

"Well I still think Carmella—"she ignored her brother glaring at the use of her sister's nickname. "And the king will fall in love. They have spent years together and she does nothing but sing his praises in her letters."

"Margaery," Olenna sighed heavily. "True or not, we risk offending Doran if we suggest something like this. The king and your sister have their duties. We will just have to settle for the princess marrying Willas, and your sister to Robb Stark if all goes to plan."

"Everyone thinks Carmella is living with some Dornishman and the princess is married already," Margaery bit out. "Will you give your heir a soiled woman?"

"A soiled Targaryen princess who will also be heir to the throne, yes," Mace answered sharply. "And once your sister arrives, she will clear all those rumours as will the king. I've heard enough. There is not much more we can do but wait and see."

"Your father's right," Alerie said. "Come Margaery, let's get you settled for bed."

 _I'm not a child._

 _ **15th of the Sixth Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Carmella of Westeros**_

The bright sun burned Carmella's skin as she shot her last remaining arrows, managing to hit every target given to her. She smiled triumphantly as the last one flew from her fingers.

"Carmella gets good," Ayi—Carmella's new teacher—said in a heavy accented version of the Common Tongue.

"Thank you," Carmella grinned. "Soon I may be able to out-shoot you," she japed in Dothraki.

The woman laughed. "You are funny."

Elated, Carmella followed Ayi as she went about her duties, which included washing clothes and meat, giving her son his riding lessons, entertaining her husband for an hour or so—Carmella waited dutifully a meter or so away from their tent during this—and then gossiping with Carmella. Ayi was different to the other wives of the tribe, she reminded Carmella of the girl she once was or might've been had she stayed in Highgarden. Ayi loved to gossip and fought alongside the men, something the older woman frowned upon. Khal Drogo may have banned Ayi and Carmella's lessons once the men stopped teaching Carmella but Daenerys had managed to persuade him otherwise.

"You think my son will find wife in khaleesi's home?" Ayi questioned.

"Maybe," Carmella said. "But I am sure he will marry Dothraki girl, yes?"

"That is what his father wants," Ayi said. "I wanted it too once, but now I think I want him to marry a girl like you."

Carmella flushed bashfully at the praise. "There aren't many girls like me in Westeros," she said. "He will find a nicer wife amongst his own."

"What about your sister?" Ayi persisted, shocking Carmella. "Khaleesi says you have sister."

"Er yes I do," Carmella replied. "She is much too old for your son, though."

"Nonsense," Ayi declared. "Age is only number. Love has no age."

"You are right," Carmella admitted, remembering the ten years difference between Ayi and her own mate. "Maybe my sister and him will meet and he might court her."

"Yes," Ayi seemed content with Carmella's lie. "Maybe."

Carmella was lounging leisurely when Ayi began fiddling with her hair. She didn't want to offend the woman and so said nothing, hoping that Ayi did not attempt to braid it. She thought of her sister, widowed at the tender age of sixteen. _And to Renly Baratheon of all people! Who was also the lover of Loras. Gods I barely know them, my own kin._

"Carmella look, your knight comes."

"Who, Ser Jorah?"

"Yes yes."

Carmella rose and jogged to meet him, realising about half way that he was not looking for her but was instead walking away from the camp. Towards the Western market it seemed. She followed silently deciding she would scare him then check the ports for any letters for herself. She highly doubted there would be any, firstly because her family should have no idea where she was and secondly because she'd received a recent letter from Willas detailing many major events in Westeros that she had yet to inform Viserys of. _I know I should tell him, but_ —her thoughts halted when she saw Jorah pull out his own scroll that was even sealed and headed towards some men surrounded by ravens. _Who is he writing to?_ Her heart rate quickened as realisation dawned on her. _A spy! He is a spy!_

"Ser Jorah!" She called sprinting towards him.

He looked frightened as his eyes settled on Carmella. The girl thought he might've run from her if she wasn't already a heads width away from him. "My lady, what are you doing so far away from camp?"

She regained her breath easily. "Looking for you."

"Me?" He repeated.

"Yes you," she confirmed. "Mind telling me who that letter's for?"

His eyes filled with shame. "It is not what you think."

"You're spying on Viserys for someone in King's Landing."

"I was."

His quiet admittance of guilt did not throw Carmella. "And now?"

"You may read the letter if you like," he held it out towards her. "I was telling them that I do not wish to be an informant any longer."

"Who's them?" She demanded, snatching the letter out of his grasp.

"Lord Varys," he answered. "Master of Whisperers."

Shocked, Carmella found nothing incriminating in the knight's untidy scrawl. He hadn't lied to her and was in fact letting Lord Varys know he did not wish to supply information any longer. "What have you told them already?"

"That the king learns how to handle a sword, that we head for Vaes Dothrak, that the king is able-minded and shows none of his father's shortfalls."

Carmella digested the information. Nothing to damning. "And me?"

"I never told them of you, my lady," his lips quirked upwards slightly. "At first I thought you were of no significance, and when I realised you were, I liked you too much."

"Do you seek to flatter me into silence?"

"No, my lady."

"I will take you at your word this once," her voice was heavy and foreboding. "Simply because I have my own informers, people who will tell me exactly what you've told The Spider. If I find out that you continue to spy on us, or have told him more than what you just told me," she paused for effect. "I will first tell the king and his sister and her husband, and then, I will make you suffer. And Ser Jorah, I do not make empty threats."

"Of course, my lady," he fell to his knees. "I pledge my life to yours, to do with as you wish."

"Keep it for Viserys," she ordered him.

"My lady," he rose. "May I escort you back to camp?"

"You may," she told him sternly.

 _Why, Ser Jorah,_ she moaned internally, _why ruin this? Now I will have to watch you, be on my guard again. Now I will hate myself for trusting you._ For she still did trust the man. It was hard not to when everything about him seemed so genuine and true. When he'd thrown her over his shoulder and ran around with her days ago for her birthday. _My holiday is now over,_ she thought miserably.

"I _am_ sorry, my lady," he said quietly as they neared the horde.

"Call me Ella," she said. _If I make him see me as a friend it may make him more reluctant in the future to inform._ Carmella was a firm believer in ruling through love and not fear. _Fear is so fickle, so changeable, but love, love is constant. It is strong and stubborn and faithful. I will have to make this knight love me._

 ** _Viserys, Third of His Name_**

Viserys was angry. He'd been silently fuming all day after seeing Ser Jorah and Carmella finally return, arm in arm, laughing about something or the other. Even more so when Khal Drogo had ordered for Viserys to leave his sister so that he may take his pleasure. It had taken every ounce of self-control the king had not throttle his good-brother there and then. And now, he was filled with fury at what Carmella was telling him. _Two days after she found out!_ He was half tempted to rip their shared tent to shreds.

"My kingdom is ready for me," he stated. "The Usurper and his most loyal dog are dead; the North is in open rebellion against the Lannister bitch; Stannis Baratheon marches against them for _my_ throne; it is my time, Ella, I must have my army now."

"No," she said, grabbing his arm. "My brother assures me now is not the time to strike. We must _prepare_."

He wrenched his arm out of her grasp, annoyed. "And to prepare I need an army."

"And you're not going to get one until Drogo is ready," she retorted. "Even with the Dothraki screamers, you cannot hope to win Westeros back. You need sellswords, ships, an actual army," she explained impatiently.

"So I am to wait some more, then?"

"Not much longer. Once Dany has been inspected and whatnot by the whomsoever, she'll make him march west."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then I have my family speed things up," she said resolutely. "They'll send the money promised, we'll hire some ships and sellswords and make our way back home."

Her words managed to quell his rage. "You promise? I just have to wait for Dany to be inspected and if she can't convince him within a week—"

"A month."

" _Two_ weeks, then you'll get the money and we'll go."

She bit her lip and Viserys wondered what she was worried about. "Yes. I promise."

"Will you tell me who your family are now?"

"Not yet," the two words had to be Carmella's favourite for the amount of times she used them. "Soon though. Before we march."

"Okay. What now?"

"We wait some more," she looked anxious and out of sorts; Viserys thinking it was his outburst to make her so, drew her into his arms.

"I didn't mean to yell at you. I am just so sick of waiting. I've waited over a decade for this."

"It would be silly to march now," she said into his chest. "Everyone will be calling their armies, ready for battle. You want to return when they've bled their resources dry and lost half their men."

"You're right," he said lowly. "You're always right."

"I'm just not ruled by my emotions," she quipped.

"I'm a dragon," Viserys shrugged, releasing her from his hold. "Fire isn't known for being cautious and calm."

She chuckled. "I feel on edge, though. If Stannis wins, it will be harder for you to unseat him."

"He might not. The Lannister bitch's father will meet him in battle and destroy him."

"Tywin Lannister will fight Robb Stark, the bigger threat."

"All these people fighting for my throne," Viserys chuckled darkly. "They will destroy each other for it only to have me swoop in and take it from them."

"Which you will," she promised. "I will see you on your father's throne, Viserys. I swear it."

Her voice was so earnest and her eyes so wide and true that Viserys couldn't help but let all his earlier rage dissipate. It was become increasingly harder and harder to stay mad at Carmella, even when she hid pivotal information from him, something that had Daenerys done he would've struck her for it. He watched as she departed their residence to tell Daenerys of the recent events. He knew he should follow her, be there when her and his sister told Khal Drogo but he didn't. He trusted Carmella to convey the urgency of the situation without offending the man. More so than he trusted himself. The thought rattled strangely in him. _I've always trusted Ella, why do I now feel strange admitting now?_ He knew the answer to this of course. He was quickly falling in love with her and he had no idea how to stop. Not that he wanted to. Each night it became harder and harder for him to share a bed with her and not kiss her, not touch her as he had touched his whores, not whisper sweet nothings in her ear. What made it worse was that Carmella did not seem to realise. At all. Each night she'd press herself closer and closer to Viserys, wrapping her arms around his neck and covering his face with her silken hair. Each day it became harder and harder for him to focus on his throne, focus on his invasion, and easier and much more pleasant to let himself get distracted by Carmella. They would often ride off together, laughing about the old days or discussing the new—as they had a few days earlier for her birthday, Viserys had wanted so badly to kiss her for her twentieth nameday but instead he'd given her a necklace of his mother's—, or she watch him and Ser Jorah spar, laughing and giving him tips as he went along, and when they did speak of Westeros, she was always so confident in him, three years ago it would've been her making battle plans and constructing strategies, endlessly correcting Viserys on his own foolish ideas; but now she seemed to have taken a back seat and was letting Viserys call all the shots, refrained from scolding him and fed his ego with her enchanting words that promised he would make a good king, the best king his lands had seen in decades.

He even believed her sometimes.

 _I cannot believe Robert and Ned are dead. They were mine to kill. I wanted to finish them, to prove that dragons will always prevail no matter how desperately you try to strike us down._ He knew that their deaths would make things a whole lot easier for him in the long run, but he still couldn't shake away his thoughts that called for vengeance. _They killed my brother, my father, my niece and nephew. My mother died because of them._ The only times he was able to banish these toxic feelings were either when he reminded himself Tywin Lannister still lived, along with his kingslaying son or when Carmella was in his arms, soothing him with her sensible words. _Robert is dead but that is good,_ he chanted to himself, _because I am no kinslayer. Ned Stark is dead but that is also good, because had he died by mine own hand, the North would've never bent the knee,_ he started to feel a little bit better. More so when Carmella re-entered the tent, hair swinging wildly. _Gods I love you, you little minx._ He eyed her exposed midriff almost hungrily, willing her to notice and finally address the feelings he had. She didn't.

"Still angry?" She questioned, throwing him some horse meat.

He sniffed it sceptically, then took a small bite. "Just impatient."

"I know," she smiled. "So am I, believe it or not. I just tell myself I'd rather wait five years and watch you take over quickly and without having to fight a war on all fronts, than do it now and watch you bleed our armies dry."

 _Our armies, yes Ella our armies, for I wish to share everything that is mine with you._

"What did Dany say?"

"She's feeling ill," Carmella pouted. "Irri wouldn't let me in, even when Dany told her to. But Doreh passed the message on for me."

"That's good," his words were wooden at the mention of Doreah.

Carmella raised an expectant brow. "I know you and her used to fuck."

"Language, El," he scolded immediately.

"Oh come off it," she waved away his horror. "It's not like you two _made love,_ " she teased, falling onto their mattress.

"She was a bedwarmer."

"A bed _slave_."

Viserys shrugged as he always did when Daenerys or Carmella vocalised their distaste for slavery. Viserys himself had no qualms about the trade while in the Free Cities as he knew it was their culture and that some slaves were actually treated like servants and were even content with their lives, however he would always feel a twinge of sympathy when he saw a child subject to such a bleak life thinking of his baby sister and he knew in Westeros he'd have to publicly be against it or risk angering the Faith. "I'm a man."

"Yes yes, and a man has needs."

"You say it as if it isn't true."

"Well I don't think it is."

He gaped at her. "How come?"

"Well you haven't done anything sexual in months because I'm here, which proves that a man doesn't have needs he has _wants_."

 _Such a smart mouth_. He glared at her. "Not every man has as much willpower as I."

"Sure," she chortled. "So if I were to strip right here, right now, you're telling me you'd be able to stand there and not want to bed me?" She challenged.

 _No, I'm telling you nothing of the sort. If you were to do so, I'd ravage you, El, and wed you the next day._

"I want to bed you most of the time, anyways, so being naked wouldn't really make a difference," the casual words slipped through his lips before he could stop them.

"What?"

"Nothing," he turned his back on her.

"Viserys, did you just say you want to bed me now?" Her hands touched his back.

"So what if I did?" He turned to face her now.

"I didn't think you saw me that way."

"Why not? You're beautiful and smart and you get me. You like me. Of course I'm attracted to you."

"But you're always angry at me, and you say I mother you and you said that I'm like family."

"I'm not always angry at you," he said gently, running his fingertips against her cheeks. _It's happening!_ "And you don't mother me, you look out for me. And when I said you're like family, I was trying to tell you that I love you. Unconditionally."

She pressed her cheek against his touch and Viserys wondered if he could kiss her now. If this meant that they were together, that she would marry him. The thought filled him with glee.

"You're only saying this because I've been around you so much lately," she said eventually, stepping away from him. "Because you've not fucked anyone in a while and I'm a girl and I share your bed. Not because you love me."

"Don't say that. You don't know how I feel."

"Oh but I do," she said dryly. "I know you better than you know yourself."

He couldn't deny it. "That doesn't mean I'm not in love with you El, because I am."

She bit her lip. "Well we'll know for sure when we get home again. When I'm not the only girl in your life," she walked away.

 _She left me._

Viserys was empty. Emptier than he'd been after he'd learned of the Usurper's death. He loved her, he knew he did, but he didn't know how to convince her. _I've never been able to convince her of anything, it's always_ her _convincing_ me _._


	9. Chapter 9

**_20th of the Sixth Month of 299 AC_**

 ** _Ser Jorah Mormont_**

Ser Jorah was still on edge after being caught by Carmella. She'd surprised him by accepting his apology, keeping his crime secret and behaving with him as she had before she'd found out he was a traitor. A betrayer. Each day he awoke afraid that it would be the day Carmella came to her senses and told the king what had happened. Not that he wanted her to, nor did he plan on sending any more letters to The Spider. _A home I haven't seen in years isn't worth it._ The knight tried to make up for his mistake by dedicating himself to Viserys' cause, mind and soul, teaching the boy new tricks that he himself hadn't even used in years, tentatively trying to ease himself into the role of a mentor for the king, a father even. _Gods know he needs one._ And he also decided he'd act as a father figure for Carmella, until she was reunited with her own. But that was more because he genuinely liked the girl than out of duty. And while unofficially in loco parentis to the pair, he had noticed that they were not acting as they usually did with one another. He was accustomed to Viserys' casual embracing and holding of Carmella, knowing that nothing dishonourable actually ever happened between the two, and Viserys' casual jealousy of Carmella affording anyone but him her attention, and in turn, he was used to Carmella teasing the king harmlessly, whispering sweetly in his ear either as part of an extended joke or to soothe his bridled temper, and most of all, Jorah had grown accustomed to Carmella relaxing completely in the company of her friend, softening somewhat at his touch, watching his every move intently, sharing secret smirks and smiles. There was none of that today. There had been none of that for days. Ser Jorah went through the usual stances with the king noting the man's tenseness and anger, and waited rather impatiently for Carmella to join the two as she usually did. When he spied her with some Dothraki slave and her son, pointedly ignoring the duo, Ser Jorah knew something was most definitely wrong.

 _I should ask him what's transpired between them . . . T'is what a father would do . . ._

"Lady Ella not going to join us today?" He inquired politely.

Viserys made a hard jab at his teacher, successfully injuring the man. "Ask Lady Ella," he instructed rudely.

Ser Jorah looked up at the man, gritting his teeth. He would've much preferred to speak with Carmella about the issue between her and the king, but he'd seen her lie before and knew if she didn't want to tell him the truth, she wouldn't. "I'm asking you, my king."

"No," Viserys spat. "She won't be joining us today. Not tomorrow. Not ever."

"Why not?"

" _Because_ ," he ground out, lifting his sword.

 _He gets better,_ Ser Jorah mused absentmindedly, _he's never been able to last this long against me. Maybe I am not so bad a teacher as I thought._

"Have the two of you fallen out?"

"Obviously."

"Yet you continue to share a tent," the man observed.

Viserys cast his eyes stubbornly to the ground and then abruptly cast his wooden sword across the grass. They'd had to revert back to practice swords on the soil of Vaes Dothrak so as not to even risk the chance of spilling blood. Jorah, however, was genuinely intrigued about the answer to his observation, he'd noticed days ago that the two were no longer friendly, yet each night they returned to the same tent.

"I'm going to find Dany," Viserys announced, stalking off.

"You should probably have a wash beforehand, my king," Ser Jorah called spontaneously.

 _That is what a father would say, right?_

Viserys eyed the knight darkly, then while grumbling unhappily marched off. Ser Jorah exhaled in relief.

 ** _Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone_**

For the first time in a long while, Daenerys was truly happy. _I have a child! My own little baby._ Since Irri had confirmed the news, and she'd watched Drogo's face slowly illuminate as she clumsily relayed the news in Dothraki for him, her normally perfect pronunciation marred by her excitement, Dany had been on an almost constant high. So high that not even Viserys' less than enthusiastic response affected her. _Ella is right,_ Daenerys would tell herself at times, _Viserys is happy for me deep down, he is only distracted._ He had seemed just that during her rather grotesque ceremony. That, certainly wasn't pleasant, she grimaced. _But it was worth it, worth it to see how proud Drogo was of me, how happy the khalasar was, all of them happy because of me_. It still bemused Daenerys, just how powerful she'd become. _I essentially control forty thousand men. . . Through Drogo of course, but still, that is how a true woman wields her power._ Just like Ella said. _And every one of them believes my son will lead them to greatness. . . No wonder Viserys begrudged her so. I would begrudge me if I were him. But he must listen to Ella, once we return to Westeros the common people will fall to their knees in his presence. Thousands upon thousands, miles larger than my Dothraki._ She didn't miss how she referred to the tanned people as her own. She'd begun doing so quickly after her and Drogo's relationship had ventured past just sharing a bed.

"How will you wear your hair?" Jhiqui inquired, holding Daenerys' long tresses in her hands. Tonight there was to be a large feast to celebrate Dany's son. _My Rhaego._

"She will wear it as it is," Irri answered sharply. "Natural and let it shine."

Daenerys was fond of Irri, the girl was clearly devoted to her, but the her tendencies to overstep what Dany considered appropriate grated on her nerves. "Maybe khaleesi should send for Lady Ella to braid it like she did three days ago. I'm sure Khal Drogo loved it."

Jhiqiu nodded quietly in agreement and Irri only grit her teeth stubbornly. "Why don't you try to replicate it?"

"Of course, khaleesi," the girl curtsied slightly before gliding to Dany's head, her fingers twirling wondered into her hair almost instantly.

Normally she'd have asked Carmella to do it for her, but she knew her friend preferred her own company these days, ever since her and Viserys had had their cold falling out. _I do not even know what it is between them, only that a week ago they were happy and the next day nowhere near each other._ Viserys had began visiting his sister more and more since Carmella had refused him her company, but he spent most of the time either interrogating her about Carmella's actions or brooding silently while she tried unsuccessfully cheering him up. _I do not know how to manipulate Viserys' moods, I've never known especially not now, I've hardly spoken to him since I wed._ Still, she felt intense frustration and sympathy for both her brother and his situation, but she assured herself Carmella wouldn't ignore him over something trivial. _He must have done something, and whatever it is he will apologise eventually and this will be forgotten._

 ** _Carmella of Westeros_**

"Will you never speak to the king again?" Ayi questioned, not for the first time that week.

Thoroughly irritated with the woman's incessant probing, Carmella counted to ten mentally before answering. "Of course I will."

"Why not speak to him now? Before the feast, stop things being uncomfortable?" It took Carmella a little longer to decipher Ayi's words, when she did, she averted her eyes, for she herself had been thinking the same thing.

"It isn't uncomfortable," she insisted. "We share a tent each night, right?" She added with false cheeriness.

"Yes, true," Ayi considered.

"Exactly," Carmella smiled. "I'm going to have to leave you and get ready. See you tomorrow."

Before the Dothraki woman could respond, Carmella had fled, thoughts of Viserys crowding her mind. She'd been avoiding him for a week now, and though most didn't question it—besides Ayi—she knew they were all secretly wondering what had happened. Daenerys and Ser Jorah particularly. Every time either had asked she'd tactfully changed the subject or point blank refused to speak about it. Carmella herself had no idea why she was avoiding him. After his awkward declaration of love for her, or whatever it was, she'd just felt caged. Suffocated. The same way she'd often felt back at Highgarden when her mother would force her to sew and watch while Garlan had all the fun outside. It hadn't been pleasant, although she knew she did harbour feelings for Viserys that weren't completely platonic. _Whatever I feel for him is utterly irrelevant. He belongs to Arianne Martell._ And Carmella didn't doubt that Arianne or one of her bastard cousins would see her properly punished if she ever presumed to steal the king from her. _He isn't mine and these thoughts are useless!_ Yet they never seemed to leave her, especially when she retired for the night and heard Viserys' soft snores from the other side of their tent. He'd promptly moved from the shared mattress to a corner as far away from her as possible, and barely spoke to her each night except to wish her sweet dreams. Something he'd been doing since their early days together. The distance was alien and unsettling but Carmella couldn't find it in her to fix it. _He shouldn't tempt me so,_ she'd rage internally, _he knows we are companions, friends at most, we can be nothing more. To suggest we could is cruel! A slight against my integrity and honour and our friendship._

"My lad. . . Ella," Ser Jorah greeted her extending an arm for her to take.

She accepted happily, ignoring the knight's obvious discomfort around her. _I wonder if I should broach his betrayal, assure him that I like him no less._ It was true, Carmella had carefully thought about the situation and come to find that she couldn't hate Jorah for what he'd done. Just like everyone else he wanted to go home, and all he'd had to do for it is send what must have seemed like harmless information back to whom he must have considered his true king; and as soon as he'd gotten to know Viserys better he'd hastened to stop his spying. _The acts of a trustworthy man._ "Relax, Ser Jorah," she flashed a grin. "We are friends, are we not? Allies at the least. I am not going to suddenly order Viserys to have you skinned alive for what I found out."

The man stiffened even more—if that were possible. "Why not?"

"Because," she began. "You gave me your word that you wouldn't do it again, and for some reason, I trust you." His silence rattled her. "Plus, you sent nothing valuable to Lord Varys. Let us just move past it and look to a prosperous future for our true king."

She could feel his eyes on her. "Happily." Then after a moment, "Ella."

For the next months, Carmella felt as if she had a father again, someone she could trust with her deepest and most trivial thoughts.

 _ **7th of the Eighth Month of 299 AC**_

 _ **Viserys, Third of His Name**_

The feast two months previous had been painful, for a number of reasons. Firstly, the female members of the Dothraki had shunned Viserys completely, thinking him cursed for allowing his younger sister to be with child before a wife of his own, worsened by the fact that he and Carmella's falling out had been loudly shown to all when she chose to sit by Ser Jorah at the end of the table rather than by Daenerys or himself; secondly, Khal Drogo and his bloodriders had teased him mercilessly for allowing a woman to mock him so by choosing an old man over him; and lastly having to sit in silence by himself while Carmella laughed and joked happily across from him with Ayi and Jorah had been the last nail in the coffin. _Drogo is right_ , he had seethed, _she mocks and dishonours me!_ Some days Viserys simply wanted to throttle the girl and others, he wanted to take her in his arms and run far away, somewhere he didn't have to be king and marry a politically advantageous girl. It didn't help that while his best friend ignored him, the people _he_ had given to Daenerys practically _worshipped_ her while she stuffed her face with the heart of some blasted _animal_ and then she had her baby declared as the Stallion Who Mounts The World. _Destined to unite the Dothraki into one mighty khal_ , Viserys was thoroughly unhappy. _I should have a child first, I am king! My son will be the prince that was promised._ And it was not as if Viserys begrudged his sister a child, sure he didn't see the kid as his actual family, no that would be Dany's child with a proper lord, but he understood that should it turn out to be male, it was good to have a safety net should he die sometime between now and the birth of his own child and was happy to see his sister so happy, but it hurt to see her flourish and grow so while he remained the same as always. _A beggar king with nothing but empty titles. I do not even know my own sister anymore. . . My Dany would've never fallen in love with some horse worshipping savage and devour a raw organ for him and his fucked up traditions. My Dany was a sweet silver princess, destined to bear my heirs and . . ._ The trail of thoughts pained the king so he shook them from his mind and focused on the task at hand. No longer was he going to stand by and watch his dynasty slip through his fingers while those who were meant to be securing his throne for him, lounged and waited on Dany. No, Viserys would have to do it by himself; buy an army of sellswords, a fleet of ships and make his own way to Westeros. And to buy ships he needed money, and he knew exactly where to get it from.

Her dragon eggs.

He marched purposefully to his sister's tent, his sword glimmering dangerously in the moon light, knowing it would be much easier to simply steal the eggs while his sister was otherwise engaged. He didn't though. He was angry, resentful and sad, but he was not cruel and would not steal such prized possessions from his own blood. _I will ask for them, and she will oblige happily for I am her brother and king._ Luckily, nobody saw him, else they'd have reported the presence of Viserys' weapon to one of the bloodriders, ensuring an embarrassing punishment for the exiled king. He held the hilt of the blade much more confidently than he once had, knowing now that he could wield it skillfully. Of late, Viserys had managed to best his unofficial master-at-arms twelve times, each under fifteen minutes, and each leaving the knight out of breath and worse for wear. Carmella was never around to see his small victories but that didn't matter any more, all that mattered was the eggs, the army, the ships and his throne.

It was after this thought that he heard her voice. Truly, for the first time in weeks. It was demanding and soft like always. "Viserys?" She hissed.

He didn't turn to face her, instead saying simply, "My lady?"

He could tell this upset her for her voice hardened. "What are you doing out?"

Now, he turned to face her. _Seven hells she's beautiful._ He directed his line of sight well past her, on the endless line of tents and trees behind the girl. "I'm speaking with Daenerys."

"Khal Drogo is with her."

 _What? What happened to the hunt?_ "He decided he did not want to leave her alone," Carmella seemed to read his mind. As always. "That thing could get you a lashing," he eyed the sword.

"Please," he scoffed. "It's Valyrian steel. I could cut through any whip in seconds."

She merely tensed her jaw, clearly unimpressed with his answer. _She never likes to hear me boast._ "Why do you carry it with you? Nobody will harm the khaleesi's brother."

 _Khaleesi's brother. Is that all I have become?_ His chest tightened and skin flamed. "I am leaving tonight and do not wish to leave it here."

This caused her demeanour to change instantly. Her mouth popped open and her arms fell limply at her side. "What?"

"I am sick of waiting," he replied. "Tonight I take Dany's eggs, sell them, buy what needs to be bought and make my way back home."

 _There. Now you'll feel what I felt when you left me._ He could almost picture the tears in her eyes and planted a smug smile on his handsome face in anticipation.

Instead of bawling though, Carmella laughed meanly.

"You truly are an imbecile."

Viserys reeled at her cutting words, then, unsheathed his sword. "Mind your tongue, woman."

"Or what? You'll cut it off."

"I'd be well within my rights to do so," he stopped himself from adding that this was because _he was king_.

"Perhaps. But to sell the last dragon eggs seen on the planet for ten thousand sellswords and a few ships," she broke off into laughter once more. "Idiocy."

"Run your mouth any further and I assure you, insulting me will be the last thing you do."

"You can't sell the last relics of your House, Viserys," she insisted. "They're _dragon's_ eggs! Worth more than sellswords you'll be able to buy plenty of in time."

"Look, I warned you, you little _bitch_ ," he pressed the point of his sword to her neck. _Such a pretty little neck._ "Run your mouth some more. Go on," he goaded.

Carmella eyed him with such vehemence, Viserys was sure he would burst into flames there and then. _Fire can't kill a dragon he reminded himself._ She breathed heavily, slowly placing her hands around the sword and lowered it. Blood spilled from them but she didn't flinch. "Fine," her voice was ice cold. "Go. Get yourself slaughtered. I don't need you to take the throne for my family; I have Daenerys."

 _I don't need you. I have Daenerys._

 _Daenerys. It's always Daenerys. Ser Willem, the rich magisters, the peasants on the streets, the Dothraki, Ella. They all want her. None want me._

 _I don't need **you**._

 _I have **Daenerys**._

Her words echoed in his head, louder and louder until all he could hear was his sister's name over and over again. Daenerys. Daenerys. Daenerys. Carmella must've sensed something was wrong, for amidst the storm in his head, Viserys felt cool, moist hands on his own, and heard a dull murmur outside the chants of Dany's name. For what seemed like an endless amount of time, Viserys considered simply giving it all up. His quest for the throne, his hopes to return his homeland to greatness, of wedding his true love, and just wandering aimlessly around Essos. He could place the crown on _Dany's_ head. _She_ could have it. _She_ could spend nights scheming and grieving with the weight of a continent on her small, slim shoulders. _They don't want me. They have Daenerys._

"Viserys!"

His eyes found Carmella dreamily. "Why have I been cursed so," he said hoarsely. "To have been born a man. If I were the girl, Dany could simply take the throne and I wouldn't have to suffer everyone wishing it were hers anyways."

"Viserys I'm sorry, that was mean and uncalled for."

"It was the truth," he said. _Fuck, I can hear the sobs in my own voice._ "Nobody wants me, I've known it my whole life. They want Daenerys."

"That's not true."

"Really?"

"Yes," she attempted to reach out for him, but he backed away, falling to his knees.

"Leave me alone, you spiteful little bitch. Go back to Jorah and suck his cock for all I care."

Faintly, he could hear a gasp. _Whatever she pretends, she'll always be a little lady at heart, who is shocked by any language even remotely impolite._ "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No. I'm—Ser Jorah is my friend. He is almost like a father to me."

Viserys knew this to be true. The man was like a father to him also. It didn't stop him from conjuring up images of Jorah and Carmella wrapped up with each other sparing not a thought for him. "Another man who prefers my sister's pretty face to my own."

She knelt down beside him and took his head into her skinny arms. He was fully prepared to push her away, fling her to the ground the way she had him, but when he felt her lips press lightly against his head, all he could do was bawl.

Bawl for his childhood.

For his brother. _Rhaegar who was made for this crown._

For his mother. _Queen Rhaella, the one person to live who might've loved me more._

For the safety he saw himself having at the Red Keep. He bawled for it all, ignoring the shame that fought to bubble at having Carmella see him so weak and vulnerable.

 _I don't need you. I have Daenerys._ He cried most of all for that. He cried for Carmella's undivided love and attention.

"I don't think I've ever seen a king cry," she murmured.

"You still haven't," he said. "I'm just a poor, undignified orphan."

"What did I say about the self-pity?"

 _"You're a self-absorbed person," fourteen-year-old Carmella said earnestly. "That means you can easily fall into the depths of self-pity. You mustn't succumb," she'd advised. "It will ruin you."_

"You left me."

He heard her sigh. "You were speaking folly. I needed you to see that."

"I told you I loved you, El, and you just left me there. You shunned me for nigh on three moons. Made the entire khalasaar mock me. Am I supposed to forget that?"

"No," she said quietly. "I meant to speak to you."

"Yet you didn't. Every night I wished you sweet dreams and you never spoke a word in reply."

"Because I didn't want to let myself adhere to it," she responded.

"Adhere to what? Our friendship?"

"To my love for you. My hopes that maybe we could be . . . You see? _Folly_."

He rose from her tangled arms and stared at her as if she were a piece of art. He read her slanted dark blue eyes, wondered how many secretes she hid in them; her slim pointed nose that was usually poking into something nothing to do with her; her pouted near-red lips, permanently dyed from the endless amounts of fruits she'd eaten in their younger years; the creamy planes of her face, sprinkle of freckles just under her ears hidden by her flood of raven coloured hair. _I know it is not her natural colour but I love it all the same._ She stared back at him, eagerly, an expression Viserys had never seen her wear. He drank it in, hoping one day she'd look like that again for him. _She was right,_ he thought to himself moments before it happened, _Ella was right, patience is key, for I have waited long for this and now I will have it. Her kiss. And it will be sweeter than I could ever imagine._

He leaned in a pressed his lips against her own.

Viserys flew over the moon in his glee. It was happening—

The king of Westeros drew his tongue against the teeth of Lady Carmel of Highgarden.


	10. Chapter 10

**I've tried to stop doing so many AN's but I had to do this one:**

 **So _so_ sorry for the delay but this chapter was _so_ hard to write. There was loads more I wanted to add and even more things I wanted to change, but I felt guilty keeping you waiting for so long so I forced myself to update as it is. **

_**Also**_

 **Moonbeam18 (Guest) and Olivia (Guest) you guys are fricken amazing. Thanks for your comments they've literally had me smiling forever. Come off guest and we can all fan girl together xD**

* * *

 **2nd of the First Month of 294 AC**

The new year had brought nothing but misery for Carmella and the Targaryens. Viserys had forced them to leave the hospitality of the merchant when his son had made what Viserys called 'treasonous advances against my companion'. He'd attempted to force his mouth atop of Carmella's and according to Dany who'd witnessed the entire thing, tried forcing his hands on her breasts. The young girl had been so scared for she'd thought Carmella was being raped. She'd run straight to her brother, who blew steam when he realised what Daenerys was telling him. Instead of yelling, as Dany thought he would, her brother calmly confronted the merchant, thanked the man for his hospitality, then stole and burnt all of his possessions, and beat his son bloody, leaving the boy begging for mercy in some dark alley. Daenerys, frightened, hid behind Carmella's skirts as it happened. It had confused Dany how unfeeling Carmella had been about the whole thing, even during the boy's beatings she hadn't smiled or smirked smugly, she'd only watched with empty eyes as Viserys' feet stomped harder and harder into the boy's chest. And when Viserys finished, directing his sister and friend to leave the boy, Dany saw Carmella flash him a glance filled with . . . longing? And then disappear for hours afterwards. What Carmella never told the siblings was that the merchant's son's touch had been welcomed by her, encouraged even, that she'd blushed and smiled when he pushed his sloppy mouth onto her own, that her skin tingled and goosebumps flew up and down her arms when his fingers slid into her bodice. She knew she shouldn't have risked dishonouring herself, but she'd never experienced a boy's attention in this manner before. It was new and exciting. Watching Viserys destroy her crush had brought reality crashing back down. _I am not destined for love. I have but one duty. Steer the king to the path of greatness._

"You're okay, aren't you?" Viserys whispered into her ear later that day.

"He didn't do anything. I'm fine."

"If any boy ever tries forcing himself onto you, know each and every one of them will pay for it as that maggot has."

The words warmed and disgusted her at the same time. Incidentally, that was the first night she dreamt of Garlan in years almost. Knowing he would do the exact same comforted her.

 **7th of the Eight Month of 299 AC**

 **Carmella of Westeros**

The kiss reminded her of when she was fifteen and had manipulated poor Tomaz into his fumbling attempts at seduction. She didn't know why, for Viserys touch was infinitely better than Tomaz' clumsy hands, and she hadn't had to coyly persuade Viserys into doing this, making the experience all the more fulfilling. Still, Tomaz' face flashed in her mind, she wondered whether she was feeling regret that she hadn't waited for her true love to be the first lips her own knew. Viserys' hands curled around her waist and she moved closer, inhaling his musky scent hungrily. It was wrong, she knew it, it rung in her bones, but she couldn't find the strength to stop him. _Let us kiss and enjoy now, in the moons to come we will worry about Arianne Martell._ Viserys didn't pull away for a while, not until after Carmella pressed her bulging chest against his.

"El," he moaned against her mouth. "I'm—"

"Sh," she whispered. "Just kiss me again."

He obliged willingly for what verged on an hour. Two tongues dancing together under the light of the moon. When both drew away for breath, Viserys picked Carmella up into his arms bridal style and carried her back to their tent, where he lay by her side once more. The absence of his lips on hers allowed the girl to think more clearly. She knew she couldn't have him. _That is not how it is planned. Besides, what business do I have condemning him to life with me? I am no fit wife, no fit queen. I have spent my life living liberal and free miles away from Westeros._

"I love you," he said.

"No—"

" _I love you_ ," he said more forcefully. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Carmella wanted to, but she couldn't say it. Not those words. But she couldn't just say nothing. "You're my everything," she settled for. "I can't live without you."

"Evidence suggests otherwise," he said wryly. "You've done it for three months."

"Only because I saw you every day. Heard you sleep at night," she urged, clasping his hands in her own.

"It was hell," he admitted. "I was utterly alone."

Her heart splintered. _All alone, my silver prince._ "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Never do it again."

"I needed to think. I didn't believe you."

"Have I _ever_ lied to you?" He demanded. "Done anything to suggest I wouldn't love you?"

"No but—"

"Then you should've believed me. We are meant to be family, you and I, yet you left me."

 _He will not forgive me of this so easily despite what he thinks. He will remember it for a long time coming._ Tears welled in her eyes. _I will have to let him go._ "Why were you going to leave?"

"Do you know," he asked bitterly. "How it feels to be cast aside _consistently_ for my younger sister?"

Carmella looked at him, unabashedly for the first time in weeks, and noticed the dark shadows marring his near-perfect complexion, the dryness of his lips, the weariness in his eyes. _I did this. I made him like this because of my own insecurities._ "No-one has cast you aside. These are simply Dany's people, she is married to their ruler."

" _I'm_ their ruler. It's meant to be _me_ they love, _me_ they bow for, _me_ they put their hopes and dreams into."

 _So this is what I've missed. His relapse into that dark hole where he's clawing for everyone's love and adoration. I could've stopped this weeks ago. Helped him. I should've been there._ "You're not their ruler," she reminded him softly. "They are not your people. And if they were, you know you'd have to win their affection through strength, not boasting of titles they don't care about."

"I know."

"You _are_ good enough, Viserys," her breath mingled with his, and for some reason this pleased her. "Much more than just good enough. You're made for this. Stop competing with your sister, you're one in the same, her success yours and vice versa."

She saw him clutching at her words, and her heart splintered once more. _How desperate he must've been for this, all these weeks he's been alone._ "Her son will be your nephew," she added. "Your blood. Blood of the dragon."

"And horselord," he retorted.

"So? Your other nephew was half-Dornish, yet he would've ruled all the same had Rhaegar lived."

He mulled over her words, tracing patterns into her back. "You're right. You're always right."

"Don't do this again," she advised. "Don't take thirty steps back for the twenty you've taken forward. This is only temporary. And you cannot expect to gain everyone's love and adoration like that. You have to make them want to love and adore you. The way I do," she added shyly.

"I love you," was his response.

Now was the time, she knew. She'd comforted him, warmed him, and now she had to leave him. Again. _I am not his and he is not mine._ "We are family."

"Ella no—"

She extricated herself from his arms. "Ayi's friend has offered me a tent. I will stay there from now on."

"El, please don't."

"This is what needs to be done," she stood up. "I am not leaving you. I will still dine and talk with you, and make plans for your future in Westeros with you. I am letting you be king, Viserys. Kings sleep alone or with their wives. We cannot indulge this any further."

"Don't leave me," he pleaded.

"Trust me, I am not," her own voice quivered. "I couldn't. I told you, you're my everything, but—"

"Nothing else matters," he argued. "Tell me now and tell me true, am I betrothed to someone else?"

 _Do not lie, do not lie, do not lie,_ she chanted it to herself over and over. _Tell him about the princess,_ she thought, _tell him it has nothing to do with me not loving him enough, tell him it is because of actions that preceded our own by years._

"No," it was the hardest lie Carmella had ever uttered. "You are free to wed whom you chose, my king. But I am not suitable. My House is not powerful enough."

 _This is what I do, the only thing I am good for, lying and scheming and manipulating. T'is why I'll never be with the one I love._ That and the fact that she didn't want Viserys, Third of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, she only wanted her friend, sixteen year old Viserys who chased her through fields of flowers. But she ignored that fact.

"Good enough for the heir of Winterfell, but not me?"

"You're hardly on the same level as Robb Stark. You're a dragon."

"We can wed," he insisted, rising to stand before her "Your House has aided me in my cause more than anyone, the least they deserve is a daughter for a Queen."

She could do it. She could be weak and fall for this fantasy of his, all she had to do was take his outstretched palms. _What will the Dornish do if we wed, anyhow? Withhold their support and ally with the Lannisters? Their army is no threat to the one we will command. They have always been isolated, let them stay that way and I can have my silver prince . . ._

"I don't want to be Queen. I will do my duty to you because I want to and have to. You will sit the Iron Throne or I will die trying, but—" she inhaled deeply. "I will not sit it with you."

"Why?" He asked softly. "Is it you? Is it you promised to another?"

Carmella had often considered telling Viserys this, curious at his reaction. She hadn't though. She knew even the possibility that she could be devoted and loyal to someone other than him would destroy him.

"Viserys I don't want your mother's crown," she said softly. "I don't want the Iron Throne. I don't even want Westeros, Viserys," she admitted. "I just . . . I want what we've always been." It was true as well, every bone in Carmella's body screamed at her to stay in Essos, far away from the place where she'd never fit in, never felt at home. "Trust me when I say this," she began. "I am not a suitable wife. I am not a suitable queen."

"Ella," he breathed. "My Ella, you are perfect in every way for me. Why deny us this simple happiness?"

"Because it is not _our_ happiness. It is yours."

* * *

The next morning, Carmella half expected him to declare his affections and demand she be his queen. She was ready to acquiesce to his wishes this time, to throw away any ideas of propriety. But he did no such thing. The two talked and walked together, but it was wooden and light. Every moment they spent together she wanted to reveal everything, tell him she was unsure and confused and unwilling to spoil his chances of sitting the throne but that she loved him all the same, that if she had to choose someone to spend the rest if her life with, she'd happily choose him. That it wasn't him she was rejecting, only his crown and his throne.

When Viserys went to train with Ser Jorah, he did not invite her to sit and watch. _It is what I asked for. I did this. For his own good, of course, I'm poison and I cannot ruin him the way I've ruined myself and all those dear to me. And I cannot act as if I long for the life marryi g Viserys would bring me. I should not have lied to him though. I should've told him about Arianne, about my life before him, my life with him, why I can't possibly wear his mother's crown._

"Ella," Dany's voice drifted across the moor. "We haven't spoken in a long while."

"You've been busy, khaleesi."

Dany chuckled. "As have you, Lady Ella of Westeros."

Carmella laughed quietly, throwing an arm over Daenerys' slender shoulders. "How've you been?"

"Well," she beamed. "My body's much thicker since the pregnancy; makes it easier to ride."

"I'm so happy to hear that pregnancy has not affected you the way it does some. My own mother was bedridden for weeks while she held my youngest brother."

"You have a brother?"

"I have three," Carmella replied, somewhat wistfully.

"Truly?"

"Yes. I wasn't much close with my youngest, I left before he turned six. My eldest and I got along in our childhood, but grew apart eventually as he took up his duties as the heir. It was I and—" she realised she'd rambled and closed her mouth quickly.

Dany frowned. "Don't stop."

Carmella smiled gently at the small girl. "One day I'll tell you all about my brothers. And my sister."

"And you?"

"Me?"

"Will you tell me about yourself, Ella?"

"You know me," Carmella scoffed. "Just as I know you."

"Maybe," Dany ventured. "But you hold something back. You always have done."

Carmella merely watched Daenerys curiously.

"I don't mean to push you," Dany urged. "We all have our secrets."

"Some more than others," Carmella added.

Daenerys touched her shoulder. "Whatever it is you hide, I still love you. I will always love you."

Coupled with Viserys' recent declaration of love, she wanted to break down crying and beam brightly all at the same time. Carmella had no time to muster a decent response to the sentiment she'd just received as Viserys appeared behind them.

"What are you two ladies gossiping about?" He pulled his sister into his side lovingly while only offering Carmella a small nod, none of the usual hugs or playful pushes.

Feigning shock, Daenerys retorted, "You know we are far above the inane activity of gossip!"

"Why of course, pardon my mistake," he rolled his eyes. "So what were you two talking about?"

"I was just reminding Ella that she'll have start remembering all those stories she told me when I was a small child for when Rhaego is born. She'll be his favourite aunt," Dany squeezed Carmella's hand lovingly, subtly telling the girl that she was family.

"Drogo has no sisters, so she'll be his _only_ aunt," Viserys pointed out in a way only he could.

"Oh hush," Carmella said. "You know what she means."

Nobody pointed out that the girl Viserys married would also be Rhaego's aunt.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eh, I've fudged up the timeline a bit. I might have to kill Robb a little earlier than in the books and move our little trio to Slaver's Bay a lot faster than in the books as well. Apologies about that.**

* * *

 **2nd of the Sixth Month of 294 AC**

They were making their way to Volantis, where Viserys was convinced they'd find solace due to his and Daenerys' Valyrian descent. Carmella was slightly unsure, but went along with his plan, hoping she wouldn't be excluded because her blood was as Westerosi as can be.

However, something Carmella had forgotten when she'd agreed to go to Volantis was the actual journey there. From Qohour, the journey was a rather arduous one. Hours of walking or riding uncomfortably on weak, destitute donkeys, had left the trio a little worse for wear. The true conundrum came when Carmella remembered something important from her lessons with Willas.

"We cannot arrive in Volantis on foot," she announced.

"Why not?" Dany asked. "How else are we supposed to get there?"

Viserys raised an eyebrow, mirroring his sister's own question.

"If we arrive on foot we'll be seen as slaves," she explained. "Well, maybe not slaves but—" she ransacked brain for the expression her brother had used to explain it to her. "Ah! We won't be seen as _people of quality_."

"What does that mean?" The ten year old amongst them had questioned.

"It means," Viserys said. "That we cannot arrive on foot."

Carmella nodded in fervent agreement. It had never occurred to her before that she could easily be enslaved while in Volantis; her skin may have once been creamy and pale, but years under the sun had hardened and darkened it, her hair was no longer it's natural gold but dark and unearthly, and she most certainly wasn't the blood of Old Valyria and had no titles to fall back on if she did, by chance, end up in a compromising situation while in Volantis. They couldn't risk the chance of being seen as easy prey.

"So what will we arrive on? The donkeys?"

"That can be our back-up plan," Carmella told the girl, squeezing her cheeks gently in the process. Dany beamed brightly at the prospect of being useful. "Don't worry, I'll work something out."

"How?" Viserys was uneasy. He made all the plans and did all the work behind them—being in control was the only way he felt safe.

"Don't worry," she replied, placing her hand comfortingly over his. "I'll sort something."

And sort something she did. The Targaryen siblings had never seen Carmella as helpless, even though it was usually Viserys keeping them fed and safe; they both knew that if she wanted something done, it would be done or she'd die trying. It was why Viserys was not as anxious as he might've been had it been someone else he entrusted this task with. Yet, he was still as surprised as anyone else might've been when Carmella returned to them one day with a hathay. Where she'd found it, how she'd managed to lead the small elephant, they would never know, but she had it and was dead set on training the animal to direct itself without the use of a slave because 'finding one of those might be a tad more difficult'.

It was that day Viserys decided he would stop arguing with Carmella whenever she saw a flaw in his plans.

* * *

 **7th of the Eleventh Month of 299 AC**

 **Carmella of Westeros**

 _Dear sister,_

 _You have not written much to me since our fall out on your way to Lys. You were not one to keep a grudge in our youth, I would hate to think you've picked the trait up on your travels; it does not befit you, Carmella. I would hope you'd have forgiven by now, for we are still kin, no matter what has transpired between us and I still love you. I write to you plainly, for we are in a better position than we'd once been. Margeary, Mother, Father and Grandmother now reside in King's Landing—our sweet sister is to wed the King as our previous one unfortunately died at the hands of the Tarth maid, apparently. A wish the even-tempered Joffrey granted us as retribution to father joining the Tyrell army to that of Tywin Lannister's in order to defeat Stannis at the Blackwater. Yes, we have allied with the ultimate enemy, but we do so out of need. I assure you, our family stand behind you and your Targaryens. I do hope our future king is well. Grandmother has instructed me that now is the time to make movements, sister, so I must add a sense of seriousness and urgency to my last words. Margaery will become Queen on the first day of the new year, and we cannot leave her in Lannister clutches for too long, so you must take the king and the Dothraki back to Pentos and await Arianne Martell and the Sand Snakes, who have now begun their travels with the gold needed to hire ships and a respectable army. I trust that you will treat our Dornish allies well and do our family proud. Especially the Princess; Margaery has oft voiced her thoughts regarding your relationship with the king. I do hope she is wrong and that you have remembered the plans for the king._

 _I hope you're happy, sweet sister. Please write back. I need to know you've forgiven me._

 _Yours,_

 _W._

Carmella had read the letter half a hundred times and been brought to tears the same amount. She'd dutifully ignored her oldest brother as best as she could since the incident on her way from Volantis. Starving and broke once more after leaving the questionable hospitality of Volantis, she'd turned to Willas to offer her some reprieve, she'd begged him to send more money, golden dragons so that she could buy some land and live safely with her Targaryens for a time. She'd asked him purposefully because he'd always been the only one to recognise that her adventure was no adventure at all but a constant battle of life and death. He'd refused and ordered her to come home if things had gotten that bad. He hadn't spared a thought for Dany or Viserys, hadn't even considered what her leaving might do to them. Hadn't considered that they didn't have a palace to run to when things got hard. Carmella had then returned a short curt letter, and since then, primarily communicated with her sister. The anger had never left her though, anger at Willas, who, despite her favouring Garlan's company more, had been her best friend, had understood her more than anyone else, had always been the smartest of their family. She'd harboured her rage nearly four years and was shocked to find that reading his words brought her to tears. He spoke to her as if she were there with him, had been there with him all this time, as if she were Margaery. It brought her to tears to find that he still loved her, still saw her as his sweet sister Carmella because she didn't feel the same. Of course, she loved Willas, she loved all her family, but she was not their sweet Carmella who ran away twice a week anymore. She was no longer a twelve year old rebel who fancied herself a boy. Sometimes, she wasn't even Carmella anymore. She was Ella. Her best friend was Viserys, and her sweet sister in all but name and blood was Dany. The name Tyrell didn't inspire the sense of loyalty and pride that it once did.

And she hated herself for it.

She hated that she was essentially a traitor to her own blood. She hated that returning back to Westeros gave her fits of fright because she knew they'd force her into a role she'd happily abandoned. She hated that she couldn't be with Viserys because of it. And she hated herself for not loving her family as much as she should. Margaery, fresh as they come, was wedding the abomination that was Joffrey _Baratheon_ for their family for Viserys and Dany, yet Carmella could barely stomach the thought of marriage even if it would help her family. Could barely stomach the thought of being the highborn lady she knew her family would force her to be. So when Willas had suggested returning home, she'd lashed out and hardly spoke to him or the rest of them. _Seven, I wish I was twelve again. I'd take Garlan with me. Garlan, the brother I haven't spoken to in nearly a decade—he who I claimed I loved the most. My beloved brother who I have lied to for nearly a decade._ She couldn't even think about Loras, the sibling she did not even know, couldn't remember for the life of her, who she'd left without a second thought. For adventure. The worst part was that she didn't even regret it. She didn't regret not knowing her brother Loras, the queer who women around the realm fancied themselves in love with; abandoning her only sister Margaery who she loved but didn't know, the poor maid who seemed to be making all the sacrifices for their cause; or Garlan, the last best friend she'd had in Highgarden; not even Willas, her first friend, her first enemy. She didn't regret that for nearly a decade her entire life had been a falsehood. _That is all my life is, a pitiful lie, for Viserys who I can't even bring myself to be with, to marry because I don't want his crown. What a sad story I am._

"Ella?" Ser Jorah sounded very uncertain and uncomfortable. "Are you crying?"

She wiped her eyes furiously. "Of course not. What do I have to be crying for? We are finally leaving this place."

Cautiously, the knight stepped towards her, arms outstretched. "Please don't lie to me."

At this, she laughed bitterly. "That's all I do, ser. Lie, lie, lie and lie some more. I'm not this innocent, spirited little girl you take me for, Ser Jorah, so you should drop this fatherly act before I poison you too."

The man inhaled deeply, presumably unsure of what to say. Carmella was on the verge of breaking; she knew he was going to leave her now. Instead, he placed an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. "It is not an act."

"Whatever it is," she said, silently relieved. "Abandon it."

"Now why would I do that? You're clearly in need of . . . Me."

She smiled a watery smile. "Most men run or yell at the sight of a woman's tears."

"Lucky for you, I am not most men."

"Yes it is."

"Tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. All your lies, let me hear them, and at the end, I'll tell you my own and show you that you are a spirited little girl that I should take care of."

She sighed, then breathed in, then a lone tear trickled down her face and she told him everything. Starting with, "My true name is Carmel. Carmel Tyrell of Highgarden; the eldest daughter of Mace Tyrell and Alerie Hightower—"

"The Warden of the South," Ser Jorah finished, sounding almost awed.

From then, she revealed all. Everything that had weighed on her chest and dragged at her feet, she held it and dropped it in Ser Jorah's lap, happy to see them gone. When she showed him her brother's letter, he was shocked into silence.

"They begged you to go home," he whispered. "And you remained. On the streets, alone, poor and half-starved. For what? Out of spite for your family?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "Never. I just didn't want to leave Viserys and Dany alone. I love them."

"I don't doubt that," he said. "Yet I sense there was another reason you stayed afraid?"

"Afraid of what? My brother? _Please_."

"No, not him. You were afraid they wouldn't recognise you anymore. You were afraid that you wouldn't fit in. You were afraid of them treating you as if you were twelve again."

"Wouldn't you be?" She demanded. "The only reason they sent me here was because I never fit in back home. I ran away thrice a week, I sold all my valuable items to buy swords and breeches and simple food, I refused to entertain the courting of my father's men's sons. And now, I am ten times worse. I could never conform the way my sister has. But . . . I could never rebel the way I did when I was a child. So I would have to do it, if they made me. I would have to marry and I'd live a miserable life."

"Not necessarily," he pointed out. "You could wed someone tolerable."

"Like my Margaery has?" She retorted.

He had no response to this.

"I know the chances of me getting a gay husband or a psychotic one are quite slim. But I'm afraid nonetheless. I don't want to leave this version of me behind. Despite the lies, this is the most comfortable I've ever felt, Ser Jorah. This is the most fun I've ever had, and if I go to Westeros and I have to be highborn and demure, what will happen to me?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"I just don't want to lose myself. I don't want to live a lie anymore."

"Then don't. You've told me everything, and I assure you, you are still as dear to me as you were yesterday, Ella."

She smiled at this. "You swear?"

"I do."

"I should probably tell Viserys about the letter," she sighed.

"Yes. Are the two of you no longer friendly?"

"I'm not even certain myself," she said. "He—ah, you swear not tell anyone?"

"Of course."

"Not even Dany?" She pushed.

For some reason, Jorah's mouth twitched at this. "Not even Daenerys."

"Viserys and I kissed," Carmella eyed him closely, biting her lip. When he showed no outward reaction or signs of judgement, she ploughed on. "And he asked me to marry him and I refused. I told him that I didn't want the crown or the Iron Throne and that I had a duty to my family that didn't include wedding him. Which was all true enough. But I couldn't—or I didn't tell him that he's betrothed to Arianne Martell for Dornish swords. He has been for nigh on twenty years."

"Seven hells," the knight muttered. "When he finds out you knew he'll . . . Ella, why didn't you tell him?"

" _I don't know_ ," she cried. "I don't know what's wrong with me! My first instinct is to lie and I don't know how to stop."

He took both her hands and encased them with his. Holding them tightly, he looked into her eyes. "You are a good girl, Ella. I can see it in you. Everyone who knows you will see it in you and now it is time for you to see it in yourself. Viserys loves you and for good reason. When any other would've gone back to Highgarden you stayed and suffered with them."

Tears began to fall unbidden once more. "Thank you," she rasped. "I fear I may have gone one lie to far but even if I have, I'll still have you won't I, ser Jorah?"

"There's no need for the ser," he said. "And of course you will. You make him a better man, I am certain he'll be enraged but he'll still love you at the end of it."

"And still be betrothed to someone else."

Jorah only had a shrug to offer her. "You said it yourself: you don't want the Iron Throne or Queenship."

"Yes, you're right. I just want him safe and happy." And with me, alone, far away somewhere in Essos. She didn't say that part. It wouldn't help or change the situation.

"Come," he rose. "Let us show the king the letter."

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

She'd almost been poisoned. Khal Drogo was fuming. In his anger, he'd declared that his son would be prince, nobility in his mother's homeland. Viserys was over the moon, Dany knew he desperately wanted to speak with Carmella and share the news but for some reason, the two still didn't talk so he remained by her side with the khalasar, while he and Drogo spoke of invasion plans that included numerous, violent raids. But Daenerys was still thinking about the attempt on her life. She silently seethed, she could feel her anger bubbling in her veins, threatening to take over. _Someone tried to poison me for the dead Usurper!_ The wine merchant had best be glad he died, as Dany had a particularly vile punishment in mind for him. _Not only my life, but the life of my son._ She kept these thoughts to herself, though. She'd resolved to speak with Viserys and Carmella about it the next day, away from prying ears. The attempt on her life had woken old thoughts the young girl had about Westeros and the punishment of those who had stood against her family. Daenerys was aware that they couldn't punish everyone. It was unreasonable and her father had been a raving madman, so they'd obviously had cause to stand against him. But others—others had plotted against him, been undeniably cruel, and they would pay. Tywin Lannister, her fathers best friend, had jumped at the chance for more power and pushed his whore of a daughter onto the Usurper. Yet Carmella's family, whom Dany thought were no true powers of the realm, had stayed loyal, seen to her and her brother's wellbeing and would be rewarded with generations of loyalty.

Just as Khal Drogo called the meeting to an end, Carmella appeared out of nowhere with Ser Jorah on her arm. Dany eyed her brother with her peripheral vision, gauging his reaction which was as expected. Not good. The two both wore smiles that sang—not happiness but closeness. Her friend walked with her knight as if they'd been doing it for years and not months. Daenerys considered the possibility that they were kin.

"Your grace," they both bowed. "Khaleesi."

"Hello ser. Ella," Dany replied.

"Ser Jorah, might I ask where the both of you have been?"

"We were discussing this letter," Carmella's hand shot out. "My brother sent it earlier today."

"And I'm only seeing it now?" He asked, while reading it.

"It stirred some emotions that I wished to discuss. I did not want to bother you with them so I went to Jorah."

 _Jorah? They've grown familiar. I do hope that they're related and not in love. I couldn't bare it if Ella ran away to the North without me._

"Drogo says he will start our invasion of Westeros upon the moon's turn. There was an attempt of my life that enraged him and now he wants to see the royal family dead."

"That is the aim," Jorah said.

"Your life?"

"Someone tried to poison me. Some wine merchant. Don't worry, he's dead now."

"Did he suffer?" Carmella's voice was low and dangerous. Dany did not miss that Viserys had to shuffle his legs at the sound of it. _Goodness, how much must he want her if her voice alone can excite him so? He'll kill Ser Jorah if it turns out he is involved with our Ella._

"He drank the poison."

"Treacherous trash."

"I know."

When he was done, her brother handed the letter to Dany and she skim read it. 'Yours, W.' _W, W, W… Wylis Manderly? I_ t was the only name Daenerys could think of that began with a W. _Manderly, Northern! So she isn't related to ser Jorah but they share a culture, a home. One that I will never be part of, not with a Dothraki husband and child._ She loved Drogo and their child ten times more, but she longed for a home, to be a part of something. _At least I have the khalasar._

"Why has some of it been hidden?" Viserys said.

"It was . . ." Carmella glanced at Jorah who gave her a meaningful look in response. "Personal things I didn't seek to share."

"Such as your true name?"

Carmella was silent. Dany couldn't help but side with her brother for this argument. "Whatever, That's beside the point. What's important is we start making action now. Dany will speak to the khal about moving to Pentos where we make haste with the money your family has sent."

"Your grace," Carmella said simply.

Daenerys could tell that Carmella's lack of reaction was upsetting her brother. She loved the girl immensely, but family came first and she couldn't bare to see her brother in this mood any longer. "Come, kind ser, you will escort me back to my tent, yes?"

"Of course," Jorah answered, shooting another look to Carmella, who nodded once.

Dany gave her brother's leg a small squeeze then rose to leave.

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

"Why is this entire letter marred?" He demanded as soon as his sister left.

"It revealed too much."

"What are you hiding from?" He yelled. "You will tell me who your family are soon enough, Ella."

"Soon enough," she agreed calmly.

"Before we make for Pentos."

"Before we make for Pentos," she echoed.

Her lack of interest was grating on his nerves. "You can leave," he said.

"Your grace," she nodded and turned to depart. Just before she left earshot however, she paused. "It's happening, Viserys. You're finally going back home." And then she was gone.

Usually, her words would've brought him great excitement, yet he felt hollow. There was obviously something wrong with Carmella.

"There's no joy in going home without you by my side," he said into emptiness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Whew. I really hope you guys like this chapter. I'm particularly fond of it. There's just one more chapter left before I begin the second part of the story and start to stray more from the plots in the books, and create my own scenarios etc.**

* * *

 **7th of the Eleventh Month 299 AC**

 **Ser Jorah**

The Northern knight awoke to find Carmella patiently waiting outside his tent, for what must have been hours, judging by the stillness with which she sat, her back propped up against a tree.

"Might I help you, Ella?" He called.

"I need you to come to the market with me," she stated. "I have an item I'd like to purchase."

"Since when did you need my help to go to the market?"

"Since the market owners became inane, misogynistic pigs," she retorted. "Will you come or not? Because we need to leave before Viserys wakes."

He chuckled. "Why are you hiding from him?"

"In case he wants to come along. This is for his nameday, it _has_ to be a surprise," she explained with a heavy eye-roll.

"You're giving him a gift for his nameday? I was under the impression the two of you weren't friendly?"

"So?" She returned. "Come on, Jorah, we need to go," she grabbed his arm and proceeded to drag him, ignoring the confused stares she received.

~x~

Carmella looked up at him, eyes as wide and vulnerable as he'd seen them in a long while. "Do you think he'll like it? I've never been gifted with - "

He cut her off. "He'll like it."

She smiled gladly.

~x~

From a distance, Ser Jorah watched Carmella hand the king the present she'd apparently been slaving over for days. He grinned as he eyed the quiet blush that slid up her cheeks as the man unwrapped the gift. He didn't understand why she was so hesitant about what she'd made him; the sentiment was sweet and the effort she'd put into it, admirable. The king would love it. Jorah's thoughts were confirmed as Carmella was swiftly drawn into the man's arms. The first time the two had hugged in weeks. _She ought to tell him the truth_ , he thought gravely, _the longer she delays the harder it will be for him to forgive._ If Jorah had been a different man, he might've told Viserys the truth himself, but alas, he was not prepared to betray the trust he'd worked so hard to earn. He'd made a vow that he would never do anything that would result in him having to ask Carmella for her forgiveness. He'd made a vow never to betray nor hurt her. _So far, so good._

"Do you know what it is she's given him?" Daenerys - who'd appeared behind him almost silently - inquired.

"A picture, I believe, khaleesi," he replied somewhat tightly.

"I didn't know Ella could paint," the girl mused.

"She can't. Not well, at least," Jorah chuckled. "But she has a lot of patience so it turned out all right."

"She always has done. I admire her for it; Viserys and I have never had much."

The knight smiled.

"You need not be so rigid with me, ser. I would like to be your friend, as Ella is."

Ser Jorah had no idea how to answer this. He knew that Daenerys was aware of his previous affections for her, and heartily ashamed of it. _Lusting after a girl barely flowered,_ he'd often thought, _you have become depraved, Jorah._ The true attraction had laid with the fact that Dany resembled his wife rather much, and then grown when she'd revealed herself to be nothing like his Lyesene mistake. But those feelings were gone now. The girl was round with another man's child, and Ella's best friend besides. _What father preyed on his daughter's best friend?_ _Sounds like something Robert Baratheon would do,_ he thought to himself. That alone was enough to cure Ser Jorah of any feelings he'd harbored for Daenerys.

"Even my brother speaks highly of you," she continued. "I doubt there is a knight in Westeros who could walk in your shoes to those two. I hate to be left out of the loop," she added.

"You're an important woman, khaleesi. Important women have no business with me."

"More important than the king himself?"

"The king is not a woman," he countered.

"Well Ella then," she amended. "If she is not already, upon Viserys' return she will be a very important woman."

"How fares your pregnancy, khaleesi?" He figured this was an appropriate place to begin the friendship the girl seemed to desire.

She smiled widely. "Very well."

At this point, Carmella came bounding towards them, hair flying wildly behind her. "He liked it!" she confirmed.

 **12th of the Twelth Month of 299 AC**

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

Viserys was quickly becoming tired of Carmella's complaining.

"You can't just let her do this," she insisted, over and over again. "We have to tell Dany that the witch will not help her!" She'd been arguing this for days, unable to accept the fact that Drogo has to die.

"I don't see why," Viserys replied airily.

"Drogo just burned, raided and _raped_ her entire town! Mirri Maz Durr is _not going to save his life_! Drogo's going to _die_ if we don't stop her."

"Drogo is going to die what ever Dany does. And he needs to anyhow, we can't very well have the Princess show up married to some horselord."

Carmella's eyes darkened, and Viserys sensed he'd gone a step too far. Again. Under normal circumstances, he may have apologized, but in this situation he needed to keep his foot firmly down. _I am king. Carmella cannot make all my decisions._

"She loves him, Viserys," she stated. "He is the father of her child." Her _lips quivered and Viserys knew this was what was truly troubling her. My sweet Ella, you've never been able to hurt a child, even an unborn one._ Viserys did not think it would be useful to point out that all three of them had grown up without a father and hadn't been affected to greatly by it. " _Your_ nephew! What will you say when Rhaego grows up and asks why his father's not around, huh?"

"I will tell him that his father died trying to bring him home," Viserys answered calmly.

Carmella paced angrily a few moments more. Eventually she stopped, sat down and sighed loudly. "You've already tried telling her, haven't you?"

"Yes," he admitted. He mentally groaned; he hadn't wanted Carmella to know this. _How little will she think of me now she knows I cannot even control my own sister._ Making Daenerys a khaleesi had been both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she'd grown far less pliant than she'd once been yet now Viserys was sure he'd never be able to dictate her actions as easily as he used to. "She wouldn't listen."

"Stubborn as a mule," he heard her mutter.

"Since she refuses to heed my counsel I've decided this can be both a lesson to her and rid myself of the roadblock. She learns to listen to me in the future and I get to keep my sister unwed for any possible negotiations back in Westeros. How does the saying go again? Two birds, one stone."

"Yeah," Carmella murmured.

"Trust me, El. I wouldn't hurt her for no good reason."

"I know."

"Once Drogo is dead, I assume at least half the khalasaar will desert us."

"That leaves roughly fifteen thousand. Not enough to take back the Iron Throne."

"I won't be using the Dothraki to take it back. They have no place in Westeros. I will set myself apart as a foreigner with a horde of them at my back."

Carmella looked up at him curiously. "What will you do with them?"

"Turn them into a proper army. Take a city with them in my name and order them to stay there. It'll be useful to have allies over here in Essos."

"I suppose. My family will send enough money to supplement the numbers. And provide a large enough army."

He bit his tongue from asking the question that had plagued him for years. _We have only just begun to rebuild our friendship, I can't risk it now._ It was true. Carmella's rejection of his hand had seriously bruised their relationship, coupled with the fact that it had also pushed her firmly into the company of Ser Jorah and not him, had left lingering feelings of resentment and jealousy on Viserys' part. It was alien to him, not having Carmella empty her troubles and thoughts on his lap and not being able to do the same. He'd assumed that after his birthday, whereupon things had almost been as they once were, that they'd quickly slip back into their old routine and he could work on charming her again. But that had, unfortunately, not been the case. Carmella purposely kept their conversations short and light or purely focused on his invasion of Westeros. So he did the same. Once in a while she'd slip up and ask after his wellbeing, but Viserys never offered anything that would lead to a long conversation, knowing that by doing so he'd only fool himself into thinking she'd forgiven him. _I must abandon my hopes concerning Ella for now, and focus on my throne._

"I'd better go. Check for a letter from my family."

"Of course."

She scurried out without a second glance.

Viserys sighed forlornly.

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

Drogo was dead. Viserys, Carmella and Ser Jorah had all been right and now she'd lost her husband. _My sun-and-stars._ Deep down, Dany had known the witch would have done some sly thing behind her back, but she couldn't help herself. She'd wanted to save Drogo, not some Dothraki healer who wouldn't have known what to do. And she'd convinced herself that Mirri Maz Durr would do it. _I saved her,_ Dany thought bitterly. S _o what if they burnt down her town? I saved her when I could've left her to be raped and killed_. She knew she wasn't being exactly reasonable. She didn't care. Reason was not on her mind. All she could think of was her dead love. _Still, till the end of time._

Viserys had attempted to comfort her, but he didn't understand. He'd never seen Drogo as more than piece in his plan. Carmella was the same, if a little more compassionate than her brother. It had only been Irri who Daenerys could discuss her grief with. Irri did not know Drogo well either, but she'd seen the love they'd shared and did not view him as simply a means to an end. _I will never find love like that again. Every man in Westeros will simply see me as the heir to throne, and once Viserys has children, a royal to increase their status. None will love me for me. None will treasure me as Drogo did._

~x~

When Daenerys gave birth to a bloody mess, she had ordered for Mirri Maz Durr's tongue without hesitation. _She will hurt me no longer with her wicked curses._ Viserys had been overcome with rage. He'd been so angry. Much angrier than his sister had assumed. _I hadn't know he ever cared for Rhaego's life beyond seeing him as a safety net should his wife turn out to be barren._ Carmella had taken Dany into her arms after the tragic birth and laid with her for hours, as if Dany were seven again. Daenerys had sobbed. Uncontrollably. _My baby,_ she moaned, _my only son._ _I loved him more than that witch's magic could even begin to comprehend! How could she take him away from me?_ Late in the night, when Carmella had thought Daenerys asleep, the khaleesi heard her friend bawling too. In her grief she'd forgotten Carmella's infamous weakness for children. _Rhaego hadn't just been mine, he'd been ours. My son, and their nephew._ Dany couldn't even bring herself to think about the fact that without Rhaego, she had nothing left of Drogo. _Only the pain in my heart._

Days wandered by. Carmella never left Dany's side, fearful of what the remaining khalasaar, who did not know of Drogo's catatonic state, would do upon seeing the woman who'd invited a maegi into their ranks. Daenerys didn't understand this. _What could Ella do to stop a bunch of trained fighters if they wished to kill me? Persuade them not to with her words?_ _Words are wind amongst the Dothraki._

Viserys was keeping the khalasaar in order, with the help of Ser Jorah. He seemed to have a natural affinity for leadership as there seemed to be no objection to his rule. Daenerys was slightly pleased at this.

"It's because they know him and he knows them," Carmella explained once, when Dany had asked.

 **31st of the Twelth Month of 299 AC**

 **Ser Jorah**

Anxiously, Jorah grabbed at Carmella's arms, desperate for her to do something. Viserys and his sister had ordered for the muted witch to be tied to Khal Drogo's funeral pyre and had laid the dragon's eggs around them. The siblings stared into the fire with an expression that scared the knight and the remaining ten thousand Dothraki, while Carmella seemed at a loss.

"Viserys," she shouted, panic evident in her voice. " _Viserys_ , what are you doing?"

He turned to her, a comforting smile on his face. "Fire cannot kill a dragon," he told her patiently.

His words seemed to put Carmella utterly at ease, who even had the nerve to brush Ser Jorah's fingers off her arm. "He's right. It's going to be fine, Jorah. Viserys wouldn't leave me."

It was then that the silver duo stepped into the large, burning flames. Jorah gasped.

Moments later, he heard the indescribable sound of baby dragons being hatched.

Faintly, he heard Carmella laughing quietly to herself, before falling to her knees at the sight of the charred, but unharmed siblings.


	13. Chapter 13

**Somehow, I managed to royally mess up the timeline. I planned to properly co-ordinate this fic with the books, but alas it has not worked out so. Basically, chapter thirteen will start in Storm of Swords when Joffrey was originally murdered. It's not too important, since now, I will begin to deviate from canon as the characters change the outcome of what happens. Hope this isn't too confusing.**

 **This is also the last chapter of "Part One" in a sense. Now their journey begins. R &R!**

* * *

 **2nd of the First Month of 300 AC**

 **Queen Margaery**

 _I am married._

 _I am Queen._

 _Not the Queen, just a Queen. For the time being. Until Carmella comes home with her silver king._

Joffrey Baratheon—Waters, as Stannis' followers had begun mockingly calling him—was strikingly beautiful. And just as cruel. Margaery had seen how he'd treated Sansa before she'd put a stop to it. Ordering his Kingsguard to beat her whenever Robb won a battle, shaming in front of the entire court; it had utterly been distasteful. A few well-chosen words had been all it had taken for Margaery to end it, that and Lord Tyrion's involvement.

Sansa clearly wasn't happy with her match to the youngest Lannister, not that anyone could blame her, but Margaery thought the girl rather stubborn and short-sighted to write the Imp off completely before even getting to know him. A half-blind man could see just how kind Tyrion actually was and that he was as abhorrent of their forced marriage as she was. Had Willas not been promised to Daenerys, Margaery would've sent the ill-fated maid to marry her brother instead. _Highgarden would've done her well._

 _I would gladly take Tyrion Lannister over his mad nephew._ Margaery knew her grandmother would've never allowed a match made between them to last longer than a week if she wasn't confident in Margaery's ability to control him, Loras' ability to kill him, and the fact that Joffrey wouldn't be king much longer, soon Viserys would come and remove the Lannister's head. _I can last a few months with him,_ she told herself each night, _he treats me well and he's smart enough, at least, not to change that._ The wedding night had been awful. Joffrey was completely inexperienced and it had exhausted Margaery to act as if she was as well. And the things that excited him . . . Depraved. But she'd wed him and proceeded to drink her moon tea late in the night when he'd been fast asleep.

~x~

It had been a fortnight since her wedding and thankfully, Joffrey's charming demeanour had not yet worn off. Just in case though, Margaery had strongly urged Tyrion to take Sansa back to the Rock away from harm, apparently Tywin had refused and so the couple moved to the furthest parts of the Red Keep and Sansa was only brought to court once a week whenever Tyrion made an appearance and was close by.

Currently Margaery was leisurely strolling through the gardens with her grandmother.

"How fares his grace?"

Margaery pulled a face. "When will you separate our bedchambers?"

Olenna patted Margaery's hand. "I will have your mother petition for it. If I or your father ask, Tywin will become suspicious. Our aims should be to get you with child as soon as possible."

"But instead they are too dispose of his grace and install Carmella's king in his place," Margaery finished dryly.

"Hush child, we are always being watched."

"How much longer until they sail for Dorne?" She knew she was whining, but the newly wed couldn't help it, she longed to meet her sister and these infamous Targaryens.

"A few months at most, dear. Kill the impatience–it will make you act foolishly. I will not leave you here nor will Loras, you are perfectly safe with this boy king. And his whore of a mother."

"Grandmother," Margaery chastised, half giggling.

"Oberyn has sent word to his bastards and I will personally be writing to your sister tonight letting her know to make haste."

"This talk of dragons, is any of it true?"

"We will have to ask your sister."

 **3rd of the First Month of 300 AC**

 **Carmella of Westeros**

Unlike everyone else, Carmella could still hardly fathom what had just occurred. Viserys had just been burnt alive . . . and lived. She had always known he and his sister were the last true dragons, but to witness the proof before her own eyes was overwhelming, to say the least. Not to mention the hatching of actual dragons. Their cries had been the most wondrous thing Carmella had heard all her life. She had no idea how she would've described it to someone who had not been there.

They were still small, and very attached to Dany who had refused to leave them alone with anyone but her brother. Carmella sensed that the young khaleesi saw them as something to fill the hole Rhaego's death had left. Carmella herself could barely think upon her nephew's mangled body without wanting to cry and vomit at the same time. _Do not think upon it, Ella, do not think upon it. Think of the dragons._ The beautiful baby dragons; there had been a dark black one, the one who made the most noise that Daenerys had instantly claimed, citing that she felt a connection with it - him - that she didn't feel with the others. A lone tear slid down Carmella's cheeks when Dany announced her dragon would be named Drogon. Viserys had queried why she wouldn't use Rhaego as a name, but his sister had silently shook her head, firmly. Carmella suspected that hearing her lost son's name over and over again would be far too painful.

Viserys claimed the other two, fascination etched across his face at nearly all times. It warmed Carmella to see him play and talk with them, his features were utterly relaxed, something she sensed she would not see for some years to come. The startling green dragon he had named Rhaegal, almost instantly, after having asked permission from his sister to use the name. She'd granted it and now Rhaegal never left Viserys' side, ate from his plate and hid in his silver hair. _Though, I suppose they've only had them two days, it's not likely they'd let the dragons out of their sight so soon._ The only one left was the cream, quiet dragon, that fluttered about in a childlike manner and singed the edges of Ser Jorah's breeches.

"What will you name this one, Dany?" Carmella had questioned earlier.

"You mean, what will _you_ name it?" The girl countered, smirking. "Viserys insists that you have it and I must say, I heartily agree."

Stunned did not even begin to depict how Carmella had felt at that moment. "No," she insisted. "They are yours; _your_ family's legacy, I am not a Targaryen—"

"I thought we'd already established that whatever name you bear, you are our family, El," Viserys had said, appearing behind the two.

For some reason, Carmella hadn't been able to argue his point, despite never having problems with doing so before. "Take it, El. Please."

So she did. Ever so carefully she wrapped her slender fingers around the small beast and watched it intently. When it breathed hot air onto her nails, before rubbing against her palms, they had all laughed. "What will you name it, Ella?" Dany inquired.

It had only taken her a moment to decide. "Viserion."

For a few moments following her proclamation, the three had been truly happy.

~x~

Hours later Carmella was sat by a lone tree, far from where the still-in-awe khalasaar packed up their tents and foods and prepared for a march to Pentos. She thought on her family across the Narrow Sea, while playing with her new friend. _I could never call this little beastling a pet, in the years to come his wings shall outstretch Highgarden._ The cream coloured dragon flapped happily about Carmella's hair, occasionally perching on her shoulder and breathing hot air onto any insect that flew too close to her. _It is mine_ , she thought. She'd lied to Viserys the entire time they'd been together and he'd gifted her with a dragon for it. The thought lay heavy in her stomach. She knew she would have to tell him the truth today or return Viserion and make her way back to Highgarden. _Or better yet, King's Landing, and take my place in Queen Margaery's court._ She wondered how her sister fared in marriage, and fervently hoped that no harm came to her. _If this Lannister bastard hurts her, I don't what I'll do. . ._

"Ella," Viserys voice was calm, Rhaegal sat happily on his shoulder. Upon seeing each other, however, Viserion and Rhaegal flew to meet one another in the air and fought playfully. "You ran away so quickly. What's the matter?"

"You gave me a dragon," she stated. "You gave me a dragon that will grow fearsome and dangerous in a matter of years."

"You're one of us," he replied simply. "It's yours."

"You don't even know who I am—" she began to protest.

"I know," he cut her off. "And it's haunted me for years."

Carmella had no response so she pressed her lips together firmly.

"But recently I've come to find that the reason I wanted to know about your family is because I envy them. Deeply."

"But you're—"

"Not for the reasons you think," he interjected. "I envied them because I thought you'd always love them more than Dany and I. Because I thought once we returned to Westeros, you'd run back to them as if nothing had changed, wed a powerful man in their aid and forget me."

"You know that wouldn't happen," she said softly.

"I do now. I know now that you'll always love me and I you. I know now that you see us as family. Not names and faces you haven't been with in nine years."

"They're still my blood."

"I know. But now we're bonded too—through Drogo, Rhaegal and Viserion," his smile was infectious, and Carmella couldn't help but grin.

"Is that why you gave him to me?"

"Well that and because there's no one else I'd trust him with more, besides myself and my sister."

"Well thank you. But I can't—"

"You can and you will," he said sternly. "Look, you don't owe me anything in return, El. Our kiss . . . You were right, it was a mistake. Folly. Taking Viserion does not make you obliged to marry me and be my Queen, I know how much the thought sickens you."

His words were truthful. Carmella couldn't bring herself to argue his point. "But I do think we could work, El. There's no one that I love as I love you, and you understand me and that's so comforting. If you could just trust me as I trust you, we could be so happy, Carmella."

 _Trust_ , she thought bitterly, _trust you_. _You want the truth, have the truth!_ "Carmel."

"Sorry?"

" _Carmel_ ," she repeated emotionlessly. "My name is Lady Carmel Tyrell of Highgarden. Oldest daughter of Alerie Hightower and Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South." She raised her eyes to look at him, unflinching. Viserys stood eerily still.

"Tyrell," he breathed. "Your father is the richest man in Westeros and _you're_ his _daughter_."

"Tywin Lannister is the richest man in Westeros," she corrected instinctively. "My father's land is the most fertile and populated. Where knighthood is highly esteemed, our tournaments are the most stringent, chivalry is everywhere, the prettiest lands in Westeros."

"You don't sound so convinced," he noted.

"I haven't seen them in nearly a decade."

"Is this the truth? Are you really a Tyrell?"

"Yes," she answered. _The first truth I've told in many a year._ "My life was one of luxury."

"Why did you leave it then?" For the first time in days, Viserys sounded like his old self. Angry and bitter.

"I never fit in," she explained. "From the age of six, I began running away and seeking refuge in the homes of unsuspecting stallholders. I sold all my valuables so I could buy breeches and swords and simple foods, like bread and peaches, I hated my lessons with the septa and would often run to join my brothers in their sword training. My small acts of rebellion were infamous amongst the highborn of Westeros."

"I thought . . . I thought you were from _the Neck_ ," he said. "The Riverlands, maybe."

"You thought wrong. As did Dany, who thought I was Northern; though I don't blame her, that's what I've tried to make everyone think."

"Is that why you stuck so closely to Jorah?"

"No."

The silence stretched for tens of minutes as Viserys digested what Carmella had told him and Carmella sat woodenly, waiting for the moment he stopped seeing her as Ella, the love his life, and began viewing her as the son of one of the most powerful families in his kingdom.

"You lied to me."

"Yes."

"You led me to believe you're House was insignificant."

"I did."

"Your sister is married to the Lannister Queen's bastard."

Her voice wavered slightly. "For your cause."

"Whether that be true or not—"

"It is," Carmella insisted. "Call me what you will, but my family has sacrificed _everything_ to put you back on the throne. Even their own, beloved, Carmella."

"To assuage their own needs, as everyone does. You taught me that. So what is it the Tyrell's want? Money?"

"We have plenty of that."

"More lands?"

"No. Ours are priceless."

"Power, then? Their daughter as Queen."

"They have that already," she retorted. "They want respect. They want to see the end of this Lannister reign and the start golden age they thrived under. The one that was headed by a Targaryen."

"I see," he was sceptic. "And?"

"Dany married to my brother Will, the heir."

"Of course," he laughed roughly. "Well Drogo is dead and so is their son so your family can get what they want!"

" _Don't_ ," she warned lowly. "Don't _ever_ insinuate that I would sacrifice Dany's happiness for my own selfish needs. You said it yourself: she is my family. And though you're both going to loathe me, I love you. Everything I've done, in my own way, I've done it for the two of you. Countless times they've begged me to go home but I stayed, starving on the _bloody_ streets, because I couldn't leave the two of you. I love Dany more than my own sister borne from my father's loins, and that kills me every day, so do not ever suggest otherwise."

For a second, he seemed regretful. As if remembering how Carmella had objected against the murder of Drogo, how she'd wept after Rhaego, starved on the street with the rest of them. Just as he seemed on the verge of forgiving her, putting the past behind him, remembering that he loved her more than his own life, his face fell hard. "You rejected me."

"Viserys—"

"I opened up my heart to you and you turned me down, on the grounds that your family wasn't good enough to wed with mine."

"No, no, on the grounds that I didn't want to be queen," she argued desperately. "I can't be queen, let me tell you Viserys—"

"No, you can't be _my_ queen. You don't love me the way you love your damned freedom. You cannot _bare_ the thought of spending the rest of your life by my side."

"That is not true!"

"So why, then?" He spat. "Why would you turn me down? There is no logical explanation besides you not loving me. You not willing to sacrifice this empty life we've had in Essos for a marriage with me."

"Our life hasn't been empty, V, and that is _not_ completely true—"

"Then what?"

"You're not mine to have!" She screamed. "You're betrothed to Arianne Martell for Dornish swords! You're set to marry a _Princess_! She's been _raised_ for queenship, for ruling, and I've been raised to marry the right lord and be a good wife, and then, to set _you_ on the path of greatness. This _empty_ life we've had in Essos is the only time I've been me, the only time there were no expectations, no nothing. Just _us_ , Viserys, and I don't want to leave it and become no one." Rhaegal roared feebly, breathing small flames in Carmella's direction.

But she didn't miss the look on his face; the wondrous expression at the sound of Arianne's name. He wiped it away quick as, but Carmella knew him well and she saw it. It broke her.

"Another lie," he said lifelessly.

"Viserys I," she stopped. "I'm sorry."

"Anything else you've hidden from me?"

"I can explain why I've lied like this. I wanted you to like me for me, not for what my father could offer you."

"I'm done with this conversation," he stated, gathering Rhaegal into his arms.

He turned to walk away, but just as he was about to leave earshot, he called, "And with you too, Lady Carmel."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey! I'm going to skim past the trio's time in Slaver's Bay pretty quickly as it is pretty much the same as Dany's except Carmella and Viserys are there. Another small note: from here on out I will either create my own backstories/events for characters (which I'm sure I'll explain in detail lol) or follow the ones from the tv series as they're easier to remember. Sorry if that confuses or upsets anyone.**

 **I do hope everyone enjoys the new direction this fic is going in, now I've moved past the starter chapters. If not, please let me know in the nicest way possible and I'll see what I can do. Also, really really hope everyone isn't to angry about the surprise ending.**

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 **15th of the First Month 300 AC**

 **Ser Jorah**

Ser Jorah was utterly sure that if he never sat atop a horse for another ten years, it would be all too soon. The king and his khalasaar had ridden ferociously for the past ten days in order to make it to Astapor before the moon's turn, and had managed to do so with only minimal losses. Initially, Viserys had had no interest in stopping at Slaver's Bay, intent on reaching Pentos, and then Dorne - where his betrothed await him - but somehow Daenerys had managed to convince him to stop in the red city. Jorah knew the only reason Dany wanted to stop was to see if there was anything at all possible for her to do to help with the slave's plight, and he knew that her brother had no interest in freeing slaves, at least not until he had his throne. He wasn't sure, but the knight suspected that Carmella had been the one to inform Daenerys of the Unsullied and had instructed the younger girl to use them to convince Viserys to stop. _Genius, truly._

Unfortunately, the king and Carmella had still not spoke a word to each other after the latter's revelation. Jorah did not spend much time with the man now that they were constantly travelling, but Daenerys had given him the impression that her brother felt more betrayed by the fact that Carmella hadn't wanted to marry him, despite her noble birth as oppose to keeping his marriage contract a secret. Jorah thought the ex-khaleesi was being rather generous. He may not have known Viserys as well as he knew Carmella, but he was certain that the silver-haired man was more than a little miffed at Arianne Martell being kept a secret from him and more than a little excited at being engaged to such an exotic woman, which was what was hurting Carmella's feelings. For once, Jorah had no idea how to reconcile the two and neither did the princess, so they'd opted to let it be, hoping that the two would grow together eventually.

 _If Ella didn't have her little dragon, Seven knows what she'd have done with herself._ Not that Viserion could be considered little. Though he was the smallest of his siblings, in a short fortnight he'd grown past the span of both Ser Jorah's hands and could now breath small tufts of gold tinged fire. _It is Drogo who is truly spectacular, I can only imagine how small little Daenerys is going to control him._ Just as the thought left his mind, the girl in question appeared noiselessly by his side.

"It worked," she beamed, reaching for Drogo who was currently devouring some burnt meat. "We have crushed all the masters in Astapor and Ella reckons we can leave for Yunkai within a week."

 _Well, colour me shocked._ Jorah had not believed two young girls could defeat the masters of Astapor, yet there stood Daenerys with two Unsullied soldiers and the small scribe Missandei at her back. _I should've known, I hadn't thought their idea to sell the dragons only to have them burn the sellers would've worked, and yet it did all the same._ It had been Viserys' idea to trick them out of the eight thousand, seasoned warriors, yet it was Carmella to suggest they offer Drogo - since he was the biggest and breathed the most amount of fire - in payment, only to have the dragon burn his new owners to death within seconds. _Any plan of Carmella's seems to work out just as she promises. It's strange._

"How did you do it?" He'd been tasked with watching the dragons while the others went on their mission.

"Viserys and I led a direct attack, destroying houses of the well known masters, taking their sons hostages while Ella and the rest of the army snuck around the back roads and freed the slaves. Some masters have resisted, but El insists it was a win."

"Now you all have another twenty thousand mouths to feed," Jorah commented.

"Well, there were only fifteen thousand slaves. Most got themselves killed by fright in the initial panic."

"What does your brother intend on doing with them?"

"I suggested we take them with us - we freed them so we should keep them freed but he's hesitant. El said we should leave the mothers and children somewhere safe and train the men to fight for us, since they owe us their loyalty."

Ser Jorah nodded approvingly. "Ella's idea sounds clever. It will do well to have loyal soldiers rather than just a hoard of sellswords."

"Viserys still refuses to listen to her, so I imagine you'll have to present the idea to him."

"Of course," the Northern knight sighed.

 **Carmella of Westeros**

Viserys was still ignoring her. She figured she deserved it, hadn't she been the one to avoid him for months on end after his declaration of love? It was only fair he was given the same amount of time to heal from her rejection of it - but by the seven, it hurt. Every day Carmella woke up and the first thoughts to her mind would be of him, of how he might've found that joke she heard the other day humerous, of how he could help her figure out that riddle she'd come across while reading, how he'd smile at her antics and anecdotes. _I did this,_ she'd remind herself every time she felt anger or bitterness, _I lied to him, I hurt him and now I'm reaping what I sowed._ But nothing quelled the ache in her chest whenever she envisioned his face after she told him of Princess Arianne. _Of course,_ she'd sigh, _of course he wants her._ _She's the Princess of Dorne. The last one married his brother whom he nearly idolizes. How could I ever compete? I, fourth in line to any sort of inheritance. Boring and plain as the common Jeyne. Of course he wants a Dornish Princess._

On her low days it was only Viserion that could bring her some semblance of peace. Her cream companion made her laugh when all she wanted to do was cry, and teaching him new commands gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn't felt in a while. It never lasted long, though, for merely speaking her dragons name brought down a torrent of pain. _I wonder what he is doing? I wonder if he needs my help with something, or if he remembers who rules Harrenhall . . . Dany keeps me updated but it's not the same._

Viserion flung a raw piece of meat that narrowly missed her head. "No," she stated firmly, causing the beast to whine. "Rise," she ordered, her code for instructing the dragon to breathe fire. Obediently, a small jut of fire left his mouth. Daenerys had used 'dracarys' to make Drogo burn something and Viserys the same, but Carmella's High Valyrian was strictly excellent on paper, she could read and write it fluently, but to speak it she had trouble. Languages had never come easy to her. _Not like Viserys or Dany, they picked up every new dialect we came across within weeks where it took me months to decipher._

"My lord!" Carmella faintly heard a girlish scream. "Oh, _my lord_ , much faster please!"

" _Your grace_ ," she heard someone gruffly reply.

A series of moans and bed creaks occurred before it dawned on Carmella exactly what she was hearing. Against her will, she blushed profusely and pressed her thighs firmly together. Then another realization dawned on her. Your grace? It was Viserys down the hall from her fucking some wench he'd found. _We only just returned from battle but half an hour ago. Where did he find a whore? Or is she one of the slaves?_ Or a master's daughter they'd brought as hostages.

The battle had been short and rather anticlimactic. Carmella had known it wouldn't have taken long; the sheer size and efficiency of the Unsullied would overwhelm the city's masters in no time. The true challenge would come when they tried to maintain the new order they'd brought about. _I doubt Dany will convince Viserys to stay long enough to do that. He'll want to head for Pentos now we -_

"Oh goodness!" The wench cried. "Right there, _yes_ , your grace!"

She heard Viserys grunt loudly and then all movement seemed to cease. Carmella could feel a wetness between her thighs and berated herself for it. _Forget him, he is not yours! He belongs to the Princess of Dorne._ Yet, she couldn't help it. Hearing Viserys in that context had awoken feelings in her body she hadn't felt in years. Though she was sure no-one would believe it upon her return to Westeros, Carmella was utterly maiden. Though she was much more aware of what actually went on regarding a man and a woman's coupling than a typical Westerosi highborn lady, she had still never gone forther than Tomaz' ill-fated gropes and that had been nearly five years ago. _I can't risk conceiving a child,_ she'd always tell herself, _I can't spoil myself._ But deep down she knew it was because of her complicated feelings towards Viserys. She'd imagined that after a while, they'd address the tension between them and engage in romantic activity, but alas, Viserys had much more self-control than she'd credited him for, and kept his hands well away. Until recently.

She wondered, absently, if Viserys used his mouth on girl the way she'd heard some lowborn sailors talk about a few months ago. She hoped not. It seemed far too. . . intimate. She hoped that he merely fucked and never actually made love. _He's never been in love anyways, except for me, so how could he have?_ She willed herself to not think of him sweaty and breathless as he must be now and focus on training Viserion. She vaguely remembered reading a passage on dragons and the importance of discipline.

She grinned. _I cannot wait to show Willas my dragon. Much better than his birds._

 **Queen Margaery**

"My love," King Joffrey called, sickeningly sweet. "Do give me your opinion on this trash? Do you think I should simply have his head or let the Hound deal with him first?" His eyes twinkled with a mad gleam.

Margaery grimaced internally before replying, being sure to place her hand on his arm lovingly. "Oh just be rid of him, your grace, his blood is not worthy to be spilled in your keep." Margaery was sure all the man had done was appear far too at ease with the ladies of court for her husbands liking. _He's been in an irksome mood all morning, anyhow, someone had it coming._ The new Queen was only glad that Sansa Stark was well away on this particular morning.

"My radiant queen is right, as ever. Send him on his way!" he ordered. "Don't be sparse with the bruises, mind."

That night, Joffrey had taken Margaery in ways she'd never imagined. She'd been sore for a while afterwards, and unable to procure moon tea for nearly two days, causing her to experience a short frenzy.

A few mornings later, after speaking to Sansa, she felt much better. Joffrey had been taken away on some hunt with Jaime Lannister and wouldn't be back for a few days. It was the happiest she'd been her entire marriage. Eventually, she found the space and time to write the letter her grandmother had instructed her to nearly a week before.

 _Dear Sister,_

 _I do hope every thing fares well on your side of the Narrow Sea, though I suppose things couldn't be much worse over there than on mine. Turns out, marriage isn't quite all it's made out to be. Neither are kings. Nonetheless, I am well and await our reunion impatiently. How sweet it will be to finally embrace you and set my eyes upon your silver king. I do hope he's a slice better than my Lannister one. Grandmother tells me that you and your companions have stopped in Slaver's Bay and intend to stay for some time, though this was weeks ago. If you do plan to stay, please let us know forthwith as Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn's daughters have set sail for Essos and should be in Pentos by the end of the week. I hear the princess is eager to meet her betrothed; the last dragon. Oh how sweet her dreams must be. Mine always seem to similar and involve me sipping on wine, living in a vineyard. What do your dreams entail, sweet sister? I fear I have rambled. Do pass my regards onto your friends, and I hope you are well. All is fine over here, things remain the same._

 _All my love,_

 _Margaery._

 **Illyrio Mopatis**

The fat magister could hardly believe it. The babe had been born nigh on three moons ago yet he could hardly believe it, even now, as he held the little thing in his arms. The mother had died giving birth to it, unsurprisingly, the girl had been nearly eight and twenty and still no taller than Daenerys the last time she'd been here, and half her weight besides. What the king had seen in her, Illyrio had no idea. _Her eyes had been pretty, perhaps, and the curve of her arse rather appealing._ But other than that, the bedslave had been one of the many plain Jeyne's around Illyrio's mansion. And one of the more fertile, too, apparently.

Illyrio had known of the king's sexual nature, the entirety of Esso knew of the Beggar King's taste for the finer things in life, including paid sexual partners, and Illyrio knew of five regular whores the man had bedded on more than one occasion, yet none of them had ended up pregnant and neither had any of the other wenches the man had had, if so, Varys would've surely found out. Yet this little bed warmer of his had enjoyed the king's attentions only twice and ended up with child on the first occasion.

Illyrio looked down at the small, pale babe again, whose eyes had opened, showcasing the purple orbs that would confirm to everyone the babe's parentage. The hair hadn't grown much yet, but he was more than sure it would develop into the platinum blond every Targaryen sported. Illyrio could still hardly believe it when the babe began to cry.

In his arms he held the bastard child of Viserys Targaryen.


	15. Chapter 15

**Apologies about the time skip. I just want to get past them being in Slaver's Bay and get to Dorne. Again, apologies if this seems rushed. Also, for the purposes of this fic, Ser Barristan is dismissed after the Battle of the Blackwater, because Cersei feels he didn't defend Joffrey appropriately (that seems feasible, right?) OH AND IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE THAT WON'T BE IMPORTANT FOR ANOTHER FEW CHAPTERS: YOUNG GRIFF/AEGON DOES NOT EXIST IN THIS FIC, BECAUSE THAT WOULD JUST OVER COMPLICATE THINGS FOR ME, SORRY.**

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 **3rd of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

They had conquered Astapor and taken all the Unsullied soldiers, they had conquered Yunkai and suffered a few losses admittedly, but conquered it all the same, and now, Viserys sat in his de facto throne room in Mereen taking in plights from his subjects. Everything he had ever wanted seemed to just be falling into his lap in swift swoops. At night, he'd pinch himself just to assuage his fears that it was all some dream and he was still sleeping under doorways in Lys. There had been some resistance in Yunkai, and Viserys was sure that the masters there would soon seize control from those he had left in charge. _In all honesty, I might've spent a bit longer there to oversee changes were being made to my liking,_ as Ella suggested. But he no longer took orders from Ella. Her subtle suggestions that she would have his sister relay to him, he could suffer those, but to have her boldly confront him as she did while in Yunkai, had been insufferable. So he'd promptly informed her that she was but a lost rose from Highgarden who had no business telling a dragon how to roar. Her expression afterwards had nearly broken through his anger;

"Truly?" She'd whispered. "Am I truly just a lost rose from Highgarden to you, now?"

"Grey Worm," he'd ordered, ignoring her. "Escort Lady Ella back to her chambers."

Lady Ella walked off back to her chambers before Grey Worm had the chance to say 'yes, your grace'. Viserys had blinked away the moisture in his eyes and focused on organising his army. _My own army,_ he'd whispered in his head.

"Your Grace," a stocky, bearded man kneeled at his feet. "It is a great honour to be in your presence."

"You have the honour of addressing Viserys Targaryen, the third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains, Face of the Freed Men," Missandei announced. Viserys might've told her she didn't have to announce him so formally each time a new petitioner entered, for fear of straining her voice, but he loved the sound of his titles far too much. _A small indulgence won't do me too much harm,_ he reasoned. He grinned particularly widely at his last moniker. _Face of the Freed Men. Mother must be proud of me now._

"Who are you, ser?" Viserys asked.

"This man has served you since Astapor, Your Grace, and personally saved the princess' life in Yunkai," Missandei supplied.

"Rise, ser." He instructed.

And then he did and Viserys's heart stopped. For a moment, he was seven years old again, begging to be allowed to see his father at once. _Ser Barristan!_

Hastily, Viserys jumped from his seat. "Ser Barristan?" He sputtered, ungracefully. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

"No more than my own," the knight answered. "Is it truly you, Your Grace? The last time I laid eyes on you, you weren't much higher than your girl over there," he nodded in ten-year-old Missandei's direction.

"Dry Rice," Viserys called. "Fetch my sister and—and bring her here." He had almost slipped up and summoned Carmella. He prayed no-one had heard it.

"Your conquests stand before you, your grace," Barristan said, with the lilt in his voice Viserys knew signalled some form of flattery. "They talk of the silver king who freed the slaves of Slaver's Bay, the one who defeated three cities in three weeks with little more than an eight thousand men army,"— _don't let it inflate your head, don't let it inflate your head, don't let it inflate your hea_ d—"with his princess sister by his side who trampled on the master's with her dainty, sandalled feet," he finished.

"I had more than just the Unsullied army, ser," was all the king choked out.

"Your dragons yes," the former Kingsgaurd agreed. "But the people speak of the Raven Queen with hair dark as night who led the slaves right from under their master's noses."

Viserys raised an elegant eyebrow. "My companion, Lady Ella of Westeros. An impressive young lady, I must admit." _Raven Queen?_

"Why I'd love to - " Barristan's sentence fell limp on his tongue as Dany entered, looking beautiful. " _Rhaella?_ " He breathed.

"No," Viserys said softly. "Daenerys."

~x~

They were sat in a small, secluded room now far from prying ears. Viserys had called for Ser Jorah to hear the rest of the petitioners, since Carmella had announced she'd be engaged all day with 'personal duties'. Viserys was secretly glad that they did not include the Northern knight. In his heart, the king knew he should've had Carmella present for this meeting–reunion, really–an objective listener would've proved useful in gauging Ser Barristan's true loyalties or agenda, but he was still hurt and angry. And far too busy with his regal matters to spend much time reminiscing over their ruined friendship.

"I knew your father well, princess," Barristan was saying. "He was an energetic character."

"Until he descended into madness," Viserys stated. He had sworn not to be swayed by his past affections for the man in front of him. He would prove that he didn't need Ella to rule well.

"So you know the tales," he noted. "That makes things much easier. I don't suppose you've heard of Robert's death?"

"At the hands of his own queen supposedly, yes, we heard of it," Dany responded. "Rather fitting."

"You both seem well versed in the going on's of King's Landing."

"We have a source," was all Viserys said.

"I fear I won't be of much use to you then," the man replied. "I'd hoped to prove my worth to you by providing you with invaluable information."

"Tell us what you know, anyways," Daenerys instructed, shocking her brother with her confident tone.

Barristan glanced awkwardly at Viserys before answering. "Before I was dismissed by the insufferable bastard Joffrey, I could tell the entire city was less than content with his rule. Or should I say his mother's rule. She was Regent until Tywin returned from war, and his Hand was the Imp, Tyrion."

"War with whom? The North?" Carmella hadn't much information concerning Robb Stark and his war against the South; at the time he'd been glad of it but now realised his petty jealousy had stood in the way of vital information.

"After Joffrey took of Ned Stark's head, Robb Stark vowed to take Joffrey's. He rallied the North and the Riverlands to his side and they named him King in the North. The Young Wolf most called him - he never went into battle without his direwolf by his side. He was prodigous on the battlefield and won nearly every battle despite being against seasoned sewed his beast's head onto his shoulders after they killed him."

"Robb Stark's _dead_?" Dany gasped.

Poised, Viserys merely inquired, "How did he manage to convince the Riverlands to rise to his cause?"

"His grandfather was their liege lord."

"How did he fall? If he was so prodigious on the battlefield?" Viserys asked.

"At his uncle's wedding to a Frey girl. It was him who was meant to wed one of Walder's girls, but he fell for some Westerling girl. I'm near sure of it that Tywin Lannister had some hand in that treachery; him and half his army were slaughtered at the Red Wedding, and the ringleader of it was Roose Bolton, his own bannerman, who has now claimed the North and Winterfell."

 _Well, colour me surprised._ Viserys had always assumed the Starks would forever rule from Winterfell; everyone had, their name was ancient and their men almost always fiercely loyal. To think that the castle was now in the hands of a Bolton cast a strange feeling over him.

"If he had wed the Frey girl he might've avoided this treachery. I assume Lord Walder had a hand in this as well?"

"Aye," Barristan replied. "Him, Tywin and Bolton, bastards, the lot of them. I was never fond of Robb Stark, but I've always respected the Northmen, and I truly respected his plight."

"Well, they couldn't beat him on the battlefield so they did so in the bedchamber."

"How so?" Dany inquired.

"This girl he bedded and was forced to wed stopped him from honouring the treaty with Walder Frey, hence why the man had him slaughtered. And she was from the West too, no doubt Tywin has instructed her parents to ensure she carries no child of his."

Dany nodded in understanding while Ser Barristan watched the king in open amazement. Viserys didn't understand why the man looked so impressed; it would not have taken a maester to realise where Robb Stark had lost his war. _His assumptions of me must not have been too high. . . What can I expect when my father was a raving lunatic?_

"Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Your Grace, but I must say, I had feared you would . . . favour your father in ways that would prove dangerous."

"Forgiven ser," Viserys answered, slightly amused. "Were your fears of any merit?"

"Not at all, your grace."

"Viserys will be much better than our sire ever was and ever could be," Daenerys pronounced. "He is Aegon come again."

Viserys noticed, with some nostalgia of his own, how fondly Barristan regarded his sister. _She truly is the picture of our lady mother._ Over the years, he'd managed to desensitise himself to effectively seeing his dead mother every waking moment, and was oddly pleased by the fact that Barristan had reminded of him of the beauty Daenerys was. Of the beauty Rhaella had been. Reminded him of why he was fighting for his crown.

"I do not doubt you, princess," Barristan answered. "Your brother oft said the dragon has three heads. T'was well-known amongst his men that he wished to have another child."

In his excitement at having a piece of his childhood returned, Viserys had forgotten that Ser Barristan would have first-person knowledge of his brother, memories that weren't distorted by being under the age of ten. He bit his tongue from asking the torrent of questions that swirled about in his head.

"Why didn't he, then?" Dany said.

"Princess Elia was frail. She almost died carrying Aegon."

"Only to have him butchered by the Lannister's," the girl stated darkly. "I will not suffer such brutality when we come to power."

Sensing that her rather emotional reaction had a bit more to do with her dead son, rather than her dead nephew she'd never met, Viserys reached out for his sister's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "We have suffered much ser, but no longer will we suffer the existence of men who would commit such atrocities."

"Westeros needs a strong, unpolluted leader. For too long have Lannister's corrupted what was once a beautiful place and a prosperous kingdom—" the man abruptly fell to his knees, sword held above him, towards the Targaryen siblings. _He is swearing an oath of fealty to me,_ Viserys realised. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged slight regret that Carmella would not be there to see it. "I swear my sword to your cause, from now until my dying breath, and beg forgiveness and mercy for turning my back on your kin and siding with the Usurper. I know no other king, but Viserys, Third of His Name, bringer of dragons."

There had been only three other times, where Viserys had felt speechless. Had felt a lightness in his chest and a fluttering euphoria in his gut. Now four. He felt slight shame at his weakness, but he couldn't help but beam as but another man kneeled before him, vowing to return him to his throne. Of course he knew that to some men, words were but wind, even sacred vows, but that didn't stop the words from feeling like a cool glass of wine on a sweltering day, like memories of his mother kissing his forehead, like Dany's tight, trusting hugs, or the taste of Carmella's lips.

Viserys saw no hidden agenda in the man, and he'd scrutinised him as closely as possible. And the pros simply outweighed the cons, he wasn't prepared to turn away possibly the sole connection he had to his former life in King's Landing. Carmella could always tell him the written reports, but only Barristan would be able to recount just exactly how his mother had looked, her favourite phrases, if his father had had moments of sanity or if that were but a figment of Viserys' mind, what Rhaegar had truly been like in the eyes of a man and not his adoring younger brother. Viserys needed that and was very willing to accept Ser Barristan into his service for it.

"I swear, by Fire and Blood, that you shall always have a place at my table, a bed in my home, and a companion in me, and every protection I can offer you. I shall never order you to do anything that might stain your honour," he cleared his throat and ignored his sister's beseeching stare. "Rise, Ser Barristan, as the first member of my Kingsguard."

It was that moment, that Carmella entered the room, loudly, with an almost panicked expression on her face. Unsurprisingly, Ser Jorah stood silently behind her, Viserion fluttering by the man's shoulders. Viserys noticed she clasped a letter in her hand.

"What are you _doing_?" She demanded.

Ser Barristan pried his eyes from Viserys and looked at the new additions. Viserys watched the man's mouth fall open and his eyes widen. "You're the Raven Queen," he breathed. "The freer of slaves is the sister of Margaery Lannister."

 **Carmella of Westeros**

She didn't know why he'd decided to tell her. She didn't know why he'd written to her and not— she didn't know how to feel about it.

 _The Radiant Ella of Westeros,_

 _I write to you with most joyous news, well, I do hope you consider it most joyous, I, myself have always seen new life as something celebrate. I am not quite sure how to tread forward with this, so I will simply plunge right in._

 _One of my most beloved bedwarmers fell pregnant with the bastard child of His Grace. Unfortunately, she died during the birth, some four months ago. I have allowed a close friend of hers to serve as wetnurse for the child. I wonder if you remember the mother from my manse? Short, plain brown hair and green eyes._

 _I'm certain you would love to hear more about the child's health and wellbeing, but since I cannot charter this correspondence to you myself, there is only so much I can write. The babe is small, quiet and provides little fight against illness, but she is already a beauty. Wide lilac eyes and blonde curls that favour her sire's._

 _Please pass these good tidings and my regards to the king. I hear of great victories won in Slaver's Bay and congratulate you on the inevitably large part you must have had in them._

 _P.S. We've yet to give the child a name._

 _Yours, Illyrio._

He has a child. A baby girl.

A baby girl with a bedwarmer. A bed slave. _Another woman._

She couldn't wrap her head around it, not in the slightest. It didn't help that she remembered the woman vividly; she'd only seen Viserys with her twice, once when she'd stormed into his room demanding Dany be freed from her union to Drogo and another time before that, when he'd spent an evening enticing the woman with tales of dragons in the Red Keep. _I don't know her name, but she was quiet. She hadn't tried to scheme Vis into keeping her as a mistress. Or maybe she had, maybe that's why she'd allowed him to spill inside of her, so she could have his bastard and through that, a claim to the Iron Throne._

 _Well she's dead. Her scheme's rather redundant now._

Except the bastard was still alive, still breathing, still a part of Viserys.

 _Wide lilac eyes and blonde curls that favour her sire's. Her sire's._

She'd gotten the letter the day previous, along with another from Olenna, informing her that the Sand Snakes were on their way to Mereen, with their cousin, the Princess Arianne Martell. That small piece of news alone had been enough to depress her, but coupled with the news of Viserys' child— _with another woman_ —had been enough to paralyse her, render her unable to function.

It wasn't that she hated the bedslave who'd borne his child. She didn't hate Viserys for it, even. She was simply angry with herself, for lying for so long, for taking away her own chance at conceiving a child of his—she mentally kicked herself. For weeks she'd managed to condition her mind to think of her king in a purely platonic way, but now that had all gone to hell. She knew she'd never be able to look at him the same anymore. _What am I supposed to do with this letter?_

She hated Illyrio Mopatis.

~x~

Later on that day, Ser Jorah arrived, bringing with him Viserion and Rhaegal. He looked more brow-beaten than usual, and despite the Mereneese heat, very pale. Carmella was instantly concerned, forgetting both Illyrio's and her grandmother's letters. "Are you ill, ser?"

"No, no," he shook off her worries. "I must've eaten something that didn't agree with me."

"Do be careful, Jorah," she chastised. "It wouldn't do well for you to fall from food poisoning."

"I'll eat more carefully then," he joked. "It should be these two you scold; I just watched them fight over the remains of some bloodied beast."

Carmella reached for Viserion, cooing as he flew into her arms. "Why do you have Rhaegal with you?"

"The king is hearing petitioners and doesn't wish to have Rhaegal too exposed."

She nodded sagely at the reply, all of sudden remembering her sour mood from earlier. Viserion felt heavy in her hands, and her mind drifted to dark places where Viserys' baby girl grew to hate her, where Viserys took her dragon back and gave it to his daughter, where he never loved her again.

"Ella?"

"Jorah–" she sobbed quietly.

Immediately, he rushed to her side. "What is the matter?"

In response, she handed him both her letters, that she'd crushed to nearly incomprehensibility in her fists.

~x~

She'd been crying for an hour now, and Ser Jorah had held her firmly in his arms, saying nothing. "It's a little girl."

"I know," he said.

"Who looks just like him," her voice broke. "He says she puts up little fight to illness," she continued, tears rolling down her cheeks. "She's _sickly_ , Jorah."

"I know," he repeated, his own voice tight. "You already care for her."

"How can I not?" She demanded. "She's just a child. . . Innocent. And her birth is no slight against me," she added. "Viserys and I have no understanding."

"Yes you do," Jorah argued softly. "You're in love."

This caused her to break off into choking sobs.

"I have to tell him," she stated, a little while after. "I won't hide his daughter from him."

"You do. You must."

"It hurts, so much," she explained. "And there's no-one for me to blame. I can't hate the dead bedslave, I can't hate Viserys, and I could never hate the baby."

"Don't hate anyone, Ella, you're better than that. You're kind, and forgiving and compassionate," the knight urged. "Tell the king, and make him forgive you."

"I can't make him do anything."

"You can convince him though," he said. "You can tell him that you are still family, that you will love this child more than Arianne Martell could ever hope to."

She nodded. "Thank you, Jorah."

A knock echoed at her door. The two stood up hastily and Carmella called for the guest to enter; Missandei appeared, looking rather out of place. "His Grace asks for Ser Jorah to hear the remaining petitioners on his behalf."

"Why?" Carmella asked. "What is His Grace doing?"

The girl shuffled uncomfortably before answering. "He is having a private meeting with an old acquaintance of his."

"An old friend?" Jorah repeated.

" _Who_?"

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone.**

Dany didn't think she'd ever seen Carmella look as sad as she did in that moment.


	16. Chapter 16

**5th of the Seventh Month of 294 AC**

The warm summer sun smiled warmly against the skin of Daenerys and Carmella as they strolled leisurely through their current patron's very large gardens.

"Oh _gods_ , you don't think he did, do you?" Carmella cried in faux mortification.

Ten year old Daenerys giggled, elated to be discussing lady things. "I'm almost certain of it," she said earnestly. "You bent over to tickle me and he saw . . . _There_."

Carmella threw her head back in laughter. "You're a treasure, Dany," she declared. "Let's not tell Vis, okay?"

Dany winked. "I won't. I don't think you should tell Vis about any boy friends you have."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"He'll get angry and beat him up," she answered matter-of-factly. "He doesn't like boys."

Carmella chuckled. "I think you may be right. Come on, let's go find that worthless brother of yours."

"You love him really," Dany teased. "He says you do."

"Oh does he now?" Carmella grinned. "Well for once: he's right."

~x~

"She's beautiful, no?" A Volantene nobleman asked, smirking.

"Who?" Viserys said, eyes still firmly planted on the slave in front of him.

"Your Lady Ella of course, who else?"

"Oh," Viserys mouthed, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he'd been paying no attention whatsoever to Carmella. "Yes, very pretty."

"Just pretty, my lord? Many have commented on how . . . _Exotic_ , she is."

"Many?" Regretfully, Viserys tore his eyes away from the enchanting slave girl. "How many?"

" _Many_ ," the man repeated knowingly. "Some have even asked for her hand."

"Her _hand_?" He sputtered. "But she's only—she's not a noble."

"She acts like one," the man shrugged. "That's enough for some men."

Viserys grunted. "She's but six and ten—"

"My lord, where she comes from, that is more than old enough for marriage. She must have flowered years—"

"Lady Ella," Viserys interrupted. "Is promised to another back in Westeros."

"Of course, my lord of dragons."

Sighing under his breath, Viserys returned his gaze to the slave he'd been watching before the interruption. He watched how she seemed to always be smiling despite her station in life, how she laughed kindly at Dany's pestering and stared in awe at Carmella's dark locks. He watched how sweet she seemed to be.

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

The room had become tense and still. Ser Barristan's almost accusatory statement had rendered everyone silent, unable to move. Dany suddenly stood, hoping it would trigger everyone else into movement, and was pleased to see that it had some effect. Carmella straightened herself, adding inches onto her height, and painted a cool smile on her face almost effortlessly. Dany saw her friend peer down at her clothing, most likely to check she was appropriately dressed, which she was. _She always is._ And then she opened her mouth, and Daenerys was astounded by how different she sounded.

"Ser Barristan the Bold," Carmella said calmly. "My brother's were entirely too fond of you. What an honour it is to make your acquaintance," Daenerys had never heard Carmella speak like this to anyone. The words she said sounded perfectly polite, but the tone with which they were said sounded anything but. _This must be the Westerosi Ella. Or mayhaps she's been this way all along._

"Lady Carmel, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you," his greeting, in contrast, was wooden and suspicious. "I've had the pleasure of meeting all your brothers and your sister, Queen Margaery," the man turned to Viserys. "Is this the source in King's Landing, Your Grace? Your companion, The Raven Queen?"

"Ser Barristan, this is Carmella, _my family_ ," the way the king said the last two words invited no further discussion on where Carmella's loyalties lay. "She was sent to me nearly ten years ago, by her parents, to watch over my sister and I and lead us back to power in Westeros."

Daenerys had to congratulate Carmella on her ability to keep a straight face while Viserys sang her praises after dutifully ignoring her for a month.

"And my sister, Queen Margaery, only remains with the bastard Joffrey in order to distract his mother from the true threat– _us_."

"I find that rather hard to believe, what with the way she fawns over him," Barristan countered.

"Well, why don't you remind yourself that she is still not with child and I swear she will never be with child by him, because she does not intend to be his wife for much longer."

"Is she aware of your—"

"Yes," Carmella interjected. "As is my brother Willas, my parents and my grandmother."

"Ser Loras and Ser Garlan?" Barristan questioned.

"No," Carmella ground out.

"You do know that Loras serves in Joffrey's Kingsguard?"

"As you did for Robert for nearly twenty years? Yes, I'm aware."

"Enough," Viserys said. "Carmella and her family have supported my cause for twenty years, and have done everything to ensure my safety. That will not be questioned."

"Your Grace, I only want to make you entirely of who she and who her family are—"

"And I am. I will have you question me no further about it."

Dany watched the entire exchange with wide eyes. Part of her couldn't believe that had just happened. Another part couldn't believe Viserys had just declared Carmella their family—which she was, of course—but she'd assumed he'd never forgive her completely again. _Perhaps he hasn't, maybe he's playing the game, the game kings play when they pretend to love those that they don't._ Dany hoped he wasn't. She was so shocked by Viserys' conduct, she had forgotten to conduct herself with regal grace.

"Ella," her brother continued. "This man served in my father's Kingsguard, and he will now serve in mine."

Daenerys saw Ser Jorah's mouth fall open in shock.

"You really trust someone who watched for twenty years as the Usurper ruined the realm and allowed Lannisters to corrupt it? Who swore to protect the life of Joffrey with his own?" She asked, incredulous.

"My loyalties have always laid with the Targaryens, even as Aerys made his descent into insanity, I stood by him, I fought for Rhaegar on the Trident and only by the grace of the seven did I survive."

"You survived because Robert had you pardoned," she quipped.

"I took Robert's pardon, aye. I served him in Kingsguard and council. Served with the Kingslayer and others near as bad, who soiled the white cloak I wore. Nothing will excuse that. I might be serving in King's Landing still if the vile boy upon the Iron Throne had not cast me aside, it shames me to admit. But when he took the cloak the White Bullhad draped about my shoulders, and sent men to kill me that selfsame day, it was as though he'd ripped a caul off my eyes. That was when I knew I must find my true king, and die in his service."

Daenerys had to admit, the speech was impressive and convincing. The lure of a man who had personally known her family seemed much stronger than the minute chance that he might be a traitor. He didn't seem treacherous, and if tales of this Joffrey boy be true, she could believe he had managed to turn Barristan from his duty in King's Landing to his duty with her and her brother. _And besides, if we turn away everyone who served the Usurper, we'll have no kingdom. The only people that we must destroy are the Lannisters,_ she thought with conviction. _Everyone else must be given the chance to prove themselves._

"You need not prove your loyalties with words, Ser Barristan, but with actions, as you have done so far."

"Yes Your Grace," the man bowed.

"Was there anything else, Carmella?"

"Yes, Your Grace," her words sounded venomous to Dany's ears. "It's a private matter, though."

"I see. Ser Jorah is already in the know, I presume?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Very well. Jorah will hear the rest of the petitioners on my behalf, and Barristan will go as well, familiarise yourself with my people."

"Yes, Your Grace," they both chorused.

Once they had left, Viserys regarded Carmella for minutes, with cool, unmoving eyes. Daenerys wanted to tell him to stop, to let go of his resentment and forgive, but she knew better than anyone just how hard it was to do that, so she merely offered Carmella a seat at their table.

"Sit sister, please."

"Thank you, Dany," Carmella looked nervous and tired and angry all at the same time, and was chewing her lip without pause.

"Your family has written to you," Dany observed.

Carmella glanced at the scrunched up letters. "They have. The Sand Snakes are on their way with my family's gold."

This time, Viserys answered. "Prince Oberyn's bastards? Are they to be trusted?"

"Anyone with Oberyn's blood in them should be trusted just as far as you can thrown them."

Daenerys wondered if this was a reference to Arianne Martell.

Viserys sighed. "I meant with my money and location?"

"Yes, with that, they can be trusted," Carmella's voice sounded flat and empty. She looked deflated now Barristan had gone.

"How fares your sister?" Dany asked, feeling particularly sorry for her friend. "And your brothers."

"Margaery's about as well as a person married to that insufferable brat can be, and I have no news of my brothers."

"Was that all, my lady?"

Carmella narrowed her eyes at the mocking title. "No it certainly wasn't," her spark seemed to have come back. "The princess will also be accompanying her cousins, in order to get to know you."

Viserys froze, and Dany gasped sharply. " _What_?" The girl snapped.

Carmella raised a single eyebrow. "I said," she began. "That Arianne Martell will also be coming with her cousins, so she can become acquainted with her future husband."

Daenerys looked to her brother, searching his face for any flicker of emotion, hoping to find none. Sadly, she saw what Carmella must've also seen: excitement. That mixture of glee and anticipation that he usually reserved for either herself or Carmella. And now this Dornish Princess had appeared in their lives and changed everything.

Dany didn't want to hate Arianne Martell, deep down she knew the person to blame was Carmella, for hiding so much for so long, but she couldn't hate Carmella. She loved Carmella. And Dany loved having her around to make the family whole, as it had been in their younger years—and she had hoped for _so long_ , that her brother and Carmella might find love together and they finally had only to have it ruined by this distant princess!

"Is that the private matter you had my Kingsguard dismissed for?" Viserys finally drawled, rudely.

Carmella laughed scathingly to herself, roughly pushing her chair back, she stood up noisily. "You know _what_ , Viserys," her voice was low, and hoarse, as if she'd been bawling for days. "I don't deserve this," she stated. "I don't deserve how you've treated me."

"I'm not discussing this with you," her brother answered brusquely. "Everything has been said."

"Vis," Dany pleaded softly. "Don't."

He looked at her with watery eyes identical to her own. "You don't know anything, Daenerys, don't presume to tell me what to do."

"And don't presume to order me as if I were one of your men," she returned sharply. "You may be a king, but I'm a princess. And still your sister."

"Dany, don't bother—" Carmella started.

"No, he needs to hear it," she insisted. "Do not let your new victories cloud your mind, Vis. We've been with you through it all, and loved you through it all too. Westeros will eat you alive if you don't have us with you. _None_ of this would've happened without Ella! None of it and you would do well to remember it."

"I remember," he growled. "And I still love you, I will always love you. But you and your friend need to give me room to rule," he hissed.

"No king rules alone, _fool_ ," Carmella said. "The bastard across the Narrow Sea has an entire _council_ advising him and teaching him and he's still managing to make a mess of it. Are you that fond of yourself to think you can rule _without me_?" She broke off into a harsh laugh. "You need me, and you know you do."

"I need _ed_ you," he returned. "But I don't anymore. Now for the last time; what was the urgent private matter that you had Barristan dismissed for?"

Carmella released the tight fist she'd held since she walked in and let the severely crumpled letter fall to the floor and then departed the room silently. Realising Viserys wasn't going to retrieve it, Dany bent down, picked it up, uncrumpled and skim read the unfamiliar, smudged, writing.

And then she understood Carmella's mood.


	17. Chapter 17

**3rd of the Fourth Month of 288 AC**

 **Lady Carmel Tyrell**

"What are you reading _now_ , Will?" Nine year old Carmel asked irritably. "Father says you must've read half the library by now."

"I seriously doubt it," Willas said evenly. "Even our maester hasn't read near as much as that."

Carmel rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "It was a _joke_ , Will."

"It didn't sound like one," her brother pointed out. "I can find you a comedy to read, if you like?"

She shuddered. "No thank you. Grandmother's forcing me to read that book she gave me for the last harvest."

Willas shut his book with a passing look of regret and gave his sister his full attention, wondering why she'd chosen to speak with him when he was sure Garlan was free to gallivant with her. "Which one was that?"

"It's all about the _Targaryens_ ," she moaned loudly, plopping herself down next to him, glad she now had his full concentration. "I'm up to Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but it's so _boring_."

"It could be interesting if you tried not to hate it so much," Will said lightly. "Grandmother will be upset if you don't finish it, besides."

"Well, the were parts that _were_ rather interesting," she hedged.

"Oh really," Willas replied. "Such as?"

"Aegon the Conquerer, _obviously_ , and Daeron, you know? The one who almost subdued Dorne."

"Yes I know of him," there was a slight quirk to Willas' lips. "I do fear you're far too fond of violence, Carmella."

"I've not read about a non-violent Targaryen yet," she protested.

"What about Jaehaerys the Concillator?"

"The Old King?"

"That's the one."

"I don't think I've reached that part," she admitted, making a mental note to ask her awful septa about him. "Would you like to borrow it after me?" Carmella liked being friends with Willas, she always felt older and smarter after speaking with him, and he seemed to not only understand but enjoy her untoward humour.

"No thank you," he said. "Grandmother and I studied it last month."

"Oh," his sister mouthed. For a moment, she'd forgotten why she and Willas were no longer close. _He think himself better and smarter than me just because he has Grandmother's favour. Fine._ "I'll leave you to your reading then Willas. Bye."

"Bye Carmella," he called after her, hoping one day she'd come to her senses and not scorn him.

 **10th of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

He had a daughter. A small girl with eyes and hair just like his. Eyes and hair just like Dany's. Eyes and hair just like his mother's. _Little resistance against illness._ He was shocked to find the fear and worry he felt when he read those words. _My little girl,_ he'd thought in horror, _coughing throughout the night with only Illyrio to watch over her._

He loved her already.

And it was a great relief to the king, who'd thought himself cold and cruel and half-mad nearly his entire life, to know that he already loved his daughter with every fibre of his being before even setting eyes on her. He didn't even ponder on the fact that the child could be another man's. For some reason, he couldn't envision Illyrio lying to him about something like this: _what would he have to gain? My reputation would allow everyone to believe I'd scorn this child, and want nothing to do with it. Illyrio would not lie about this._

He ached to hold her. Soothe her in the night as he had soothed Daenerys. Rock her to sleep with tales of home, of adventure, of his mother. _How ironic that this life I've led has essentially prepared me for fatherhood._ The sacrifices, the resourcefulness, the patience he'd struggled to gain, it had all contributed to the man he was. The man who loved his daughter more than anything else on the planet. The man who would give her everything.

He hoped her eyes would stay lilac, and not darken as his had during childhood.

"Brother," Dany stood silently by his doorway. "May I—"

"Yes," he waved her in. "Come."

She ran into his arms, as if she were seven again, nestling her head in his neck. Her breathing was heavy. "Ella says it's real," she said. "She says the babe's real."

"Mm," Viserys murmured noncommittally.

"We _have_ to go and get her," his sister urged, pulling away from him, her purple eyes flashing.

He sighed, having anticipated this conversation. "We have to wait for the princess."

"Arianne Martell is more important than our _flesh and blood_?" She demanded heatedly.

"No," he said. "We have to stay focused Dany, I can't rush off to Pentos and not be here when she arrives."

"Why not?" She said. "We go, get her, leave someone in charge, and come back. All in under a moon's turn."

"Dany," he said slowly. "We're not going to get her until Princess Arianne arrives."

She scoffed harshly, reminding Viserys very much of their father. "Are you _that_ eager to stick your cock in her? She's just a _girl_ , Viserys, a girl who happened to be born noble, nothing special."

He sharply inhaled. "Her father's swords are vital to our cause," it was taking every inch of control he possessed to remain calm under Daenerys' hard glare and sharp words. _She's lucky I don't strike her right now._

"Forget Westeros for a bloody second, Viserys! You have a _daughter_ , a _child_ , holed away with the likes of _Illyrio_ and you're just going to sit here and wait for a bunch of _bastards_? Do you know what I would do so that I could hold Rhaego? _Huh_? To see him walk, and laugh, and speak or even yell and curse me?"

In sight of the tears glistening on his sister's cheeks, Viserys cooled himself down before replying. Reminded himself of what Dany had lost, essentially because his own actions and then replied. "I'm not abandoning her, sister. I love her more than you do, Dany, she is not just a replacement for my own stillborn son to me—" he saw her mouth open in protest. "I know you'll love her too, but not like I do. I'm her father. I have to keep her safe, and the only way to truly do so is to take back our home so she doesn't have to live the way we did."

"You know," Daenerys almost whispered, her anger from seconds ago seemingly vanished. "Our life wasn't so horrible, V. I was happy. Ella was more than happy. We all loved each other. Don't you want that for the baby? Ella already told us what life is usually like for highborn children. Septa's, maesters, sword lessons or embroidery and servants. Is that what you want for her?"

Viserys didn't have an immediate response. What could he say? His sister's logic was very much sound, and honest. Yet in his heart, he knew he was doing the right thing. _I have to prepare for Westeros,_ he protested, _if I rush for the babe, Illyrio will know her value. He will use her against me before I have even a chance to hold her. She's safe for the time being, so I can and I must wait for Dorne._ "She will be loved and she will _also_ be raised far away from the streets of Essos. We're not getting her right at this minute and that is all I have to say about it. She's perfectly safe where she is, Daenerys, I will not bring her into the precarious peace we've brought about in Slaver's Bay. Is that clear?"

Dany jutted her jaw out defiantly. "Crystal. Your Grace."

Viserys exhaled in exasperation. "Just trust me, Dany. Trust me."

She didn't say anything in return to him, but Viserys saw her shoulder's relax as she walked away. He wondered on what kind of mother Daenerys might've made for Rhaego. He wondered how he would've treated his nephew had he been born alive. _Most likely with polite distance,_ he grimaced, _I all but had his father killed. He would've hated me._ For a fleeting moment, his mind passed over the slave he'd bedded and left with child. Some shame erupted in his chest. _My carelessness lost her, her life. She died giving birth to my offspring._ But it soon passed away as the joy at having a child took over. He barely remembered the woman, all he could recall were pretty green eyes and a soft-spoken manner. _Shit, what will I tell the child when she's grown and asks after her mother?_

Then Viserys realised something.

The baby would be a bastard. Every one in Westeros would see his child—his daughter, blood of _the dragon_ —as nothing but a bastard. A highborn one, perhaps, but a bastard nonetheless. Of no importance. Immediately anger surged through his veins. And he could feel it; that anger, the loss of control that he so often recognised in his sister and their father before that and he knew where he had to go.

~x~

Carmella's room was badly lit and smelt of sweat and tears. Viserys found her hunched over an oak desk loudly scribbling a letter, pausing every moment or so to wipe her cheeks. He found it strange how normal it felt to walk into her room seeking her comfort, how after nearly two months of no contact he could still feel so comfortable in her presence, still feel all those feelings for her that he'd thought had disappeared in light of her lies.

"My lady," he called.

Her head snapped up. "Your Grace?"

For once, he didn't like those words. They'd stung coming from Dany and positively killed coming from Carmella. "El," he said instead, stepping closer to her. "El I'm _so sorry_." And then out of nowhere, he was crying.

In an instant, she had jumped up and onto him, her thin arms nearly strangling while they embraced. "Finally," she said, breathless and hoarse. "Forgive me?"

"Of course," he replied, knotting his hands in her soft hair. "Do you forgive me? For ignoring you?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she stated. "I hurt you and didn't trust you. I would've reacted the same way."

"Gods you smell so sweet, Ella," he proclaimed. "And you sound so fucking wonderful."

She hugged him tightly for a few more minutes before letting go, almost moaning as she did so. "You missed me?"

"Quite a but," he admitted. "I need you, El. I always have." He didn't know why he'd tried to deny the fact.

" _I_ need _you_ ," she corrected. "And it seems like I'm not the only one."

He sighed, pushing his hands through his knotted hair. "Ser Barristan has offered to retrieve her on my behalf. I reckon he wants to prove his worth. Prove his loyalty."

"Probably."

"Should I let him?" The question had haunted him for days. Whether he should entrust the life of his firstborn in the hands of a man who'd betrayed his family.

"You have to be the first to see her, Vis," she said quietly. "You have to hold her before any of us do. Why don't you go and get her?"

"I have to stay," he said, praying she didn't make him feel the way his sister had minutes ago. "I must stay and welcome the princess."

The princess was clearly a sore topic for Carmella who merely nodded. "Yes."

"Listen, El, about Arianne—"

"I don't want to talk about her," she said haltingly. "I want to talk about us. About the baby. About Dany. Okay?"

"Of course," he said after a while.

And so they talked. She sat upright, her shoulders pushed back to a most uncomfortable degree in Viserys' eyes and asked him a sharp series of open-ended questions that he assumed she'd been harbouring for days–weeks even. He tried his best to answer all of them honestly and in detail, but her stiff and wooden demeanour made it hard for him to relax in her presence. He wondered whether he'd managed to bruise their relationship irreparably leaving no hope of true reconciliation. At one point, as she briskly told him of Viserion's progress, Viserys had attempted to reach out to her, stroke her arm as he might've done months ago but she'd flinched and paused then resumed speaking again in a tone degrees colder. That had hurt.

"This isn't how it once was," he commented when he could take her distance no longer.

"It can _never_ be how it once was," she stated, not looking at him.

"You said you'd forgiven me," he accused.

" _You_ said you were _done_ with me!" She rebuked hotly. "Do you forget, Your Grace? The day after the funeral pyre, when you bestowed upon me the dragon and found out the truth. You left me and said you were finished with me."

"I said I was finished with Lady Carmel," he returned. "But you're not her. You're Ella."

"I'm the same person," she said bitterly. "Just different names."

"No," he argued. "Lady Carmel fled her home in hopes of grooming the king to her family's liking. Lady Carmel decided to start the relationship off with a lie. But she wasn't who I spent my life with," his voice had fallen to a hushed whisper. "She wasn't the one who cradled Dany in her arms, she didn't help me when I fell, make me laugh when I grieved, or bring me back into reality when I drifted. She didn't love me and I don't love her. I love _you_ , Ella."

For a moment, only small gasps of wonder escaped Carmella's lips. Until she pressed them onto her kings. The kiss was only short and light, and barely a kiss at all if truth be told, but it spoke louder than a hundred of her carefully chosen words could've. "You get it," she said into his left ear. "You get that I'm not her anymore."

"Not at first," he admitted. "But I get it now. I _understand_ you now."

"And you still love me? Truly?"

"Truly."

And for the first time since their nights under the stars, Carmella and Viserys shared a bed.

 **Carmella of Westeros**

The next morning she woke feeling well rested, for the first time in what felt like years. Flung over her waist was Viserys' sinewy, but rather muscled, arm, and above her head was his sharp chin. She breathed out in pleasure before taking a moment to observe him.

He didn't look much different. His eyes were still a dark purple, narrow and sharp, his hair still fell platinum blonde to his shoulders, glinting under the sun's smile and his face was still as angular and almost mean looking as it had always been. Though somehow, he looks different. She couldn't place it. _Maybe it is his new status,_ she pondered. Face of the Freed Men was a moniker that could brighten anyone's features, she thought, and she knew it had most lightly done that and some more to the man's in front of her. She was happy for him–elated really, to see him achieve all she knew he could and more. It hadn't properly sunk in before, when she was still moping, but it had finally processed now, and Carmella realised that in her bed was the true king, in more than just name. _It's not just because his father was king before him anymor,_ she thought wistfully, _it's because he's earned it, because he'll be good at it._

The sentiment warmed her still heart, that fluttered as Viserys shifted beside her, gently snoring.

In light of their renewed friendship, she'd forgotten all the whores he'd taken to his bed. She even forgot the whore he'd taken and gotten with child. For a second, she thought only of herself and him. She thought of them waking up together every morning, and breaking fast with jam and toast as they often did when their finances allowed it. For a second she thought of them being together, and not just in her own selfish fantasies where she envisioned him somewhere hidden in Essos, seas away from his family and birthright, but in King's Landing, in the Red Keep, with their respective crowns on the stand by their bed. She thought of how it would feel to wear a crown and rule a country. _Utterly despicable,_ she decided, but then she remembered how it felt to be alone–surrounded by everyone but _him_ , crownless and lonely, and she made up her ever fluctuating mind.

 _I will wear a hundred crowns and rule a thousand countries to be his wife._

That was when her heart broke as she realised that she could never have him, not now with the princess in the picture and her lies in the air. It was also when Viserys awoke.

"You're real," he murmured, twisting a strand of her hair around his tapering fingers. "I didn't just imagine it."

"We slept nearly a day and half," she chided. "Everyone's most likely afraid you were assassinated."

"How upset they'll be when they realise I was doing nothing nearly as exciting," he drawled, drily.

Carmella rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a pessimist."

He tapped her nose in faux disappointment. "Don't be such a bore."

"We have to wake up now," she said.

"No," he moaned. "Let's stay like this a little longer."

She rose, disentangling herself from his long limbs. "Jorah will have a stroke if he finds us like this."

"If he hasn't already," Viserys said from the bed.

She shot him a chastising look before vacating the bed and straightening out her crumpled gown, trying very hard not to blush at his ruffled hair. "You should go," she suggested. "Do whatever it is kings do."

"You'd know better than I," he teased while sitting up. "You always have."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Grace. Now come on, stop japing–we have matters to discuss."

"Look at you," he said admiringly. "You're already willing to aid me, after only a day of forgiveness."

"What else would I do?" She asked. "Tip-toe around you for a few more weeks. I've had enough of that; everything that needs to be said, has been, and now I want us to be close once more."

Viserys lifted himself from the mattress and walked till he stood only inches from Carmella's face. "I agree with most of what you said."

"What did you disagree with?" She said breathily, hoping her breath was not sour after her impromptu nap.

"That _everything's_ been said."

"What else is there to say, Vis? We've forgiven and promised to trust one another from now on. What more is there to ask for?"

He clasped her hands in his abruptly. "So much," he told her. "Such as your hand, for example."

"You're betrothed to someone else," she said painstakingly. "Don't ask me for that."

"I will someday," he vowed. "Someday I will, I promise you that. But not now."

"How can you? Before too long both you and I shall be wed to other people."

"And I thought I had accepted that," he said. "I really did. I resigned myself to life with this Dornish stranger, thinking that if she were attractive enough, I could be content."

"What changed your mind?" She

"My daughter," he stated.

She'd forgotten to ask about the child–the child that Carmella had worried for for the past seven days. Forgotten the innocent babe in the torrent of feelings and emotions and longing and scolded herself for it. _I am meant to be his family yet at first sign of distraction I forget what is truly important._

"I realised," he continued. "That near likely everyone in Westeros will scorn her for being a bastard," the word sent pangs of pain down Carmella's body. She'd always hated it. "No matter how much I try to remove the stigma of having unmarried parents—and trust me, I will—there will always be many who overlook and underestimate her."

"You're right," she responded. "Your trueborns will always be more loved and more wanted."

"I will love them all equally," he said. "And so will you."

"Beg pardon?"

"You are the only woman in the world who will love all of my children the same, even if one is a just a bastard. Arianne Martell could be the most exotic and interesting person alive, but she will not give that baby the love and care that she will surely go without back in Westeros."

Carmella momentarily choked on her emotion. "Maybe I'd feel differently if we were betrothed or—"

"You know you wouldn't. Me, you'd probably hate for a while, but any child of mine I know you'll always love regardless of whichever wench bore it. I'd put my life on it."

She bit her lip. "When will we get her?"

"As soon as this princess shows up."

"Then we must start making preparations to leave now," Carmella declared. "They could arrive any time in the next fortnight."

He smiled inwardly at her determined tone. "I'm having a feast with the Second Son's on the morrow, and sent Barristan to barter with some Braavosi about ships and now that you and I are together again, I can have you somehow convince the Golden Company to fight for me too."

Her smile almost split her face in half. _He is so grown now, so. . . Manly._ She'd be lying if she claimed his new attitude didn't arouse her slightly. _Focus on the matter at hand! The baby!_ "I'll make arrangements," she said.

"Bring Dany with you," he added. "I fear she needs company other than mine."

"Who doesn't?" Carmella jested.

"Certainly not you," he retorted, drawing her into his arms.

"Viserys," she said, suddenly feeling sentimental and sappy. "I'm going to put you on that throne." _And hope that I can stand by you once you're on it._ "I don't have a sword to swear to you, but I vow, I will _always_ fight for you."

In her memories, Carmella would always describe his smile at that moment as _'a gentle sunset'._ "And I, you."

 **The Spider**

Varys had watched Tyrion Lannister for a time and determined that the man deserved to live. He was a sentimental fool who craved love as desperately as his sister craved power, and rather ugly, but he was still crafty, smart and humourous enough for The Spider to want to save him.

"What folly is this you speak of, Varys?" The Imp demanded, thoroughly disillusioned with the man's famous riddles and half-truths that he'd been feeding into their conversation till this point.

"I've watched you care for and shelter that maid of yours, Sansa Stark, for moons my lord. I fear you deserve to live a better life than this one before you die."

The Lannister laughed. "Sansa Stark is no maid."

"You fool no-one, my lord. Especially not me–my birds are everywhere and they sing of the pretty maiden Sansa, sobbing in her bedchambers. _Alone_."

"I do not take her regularly, you sly snake, she is but five and ten."

"A woman flowered and a woman grown," Varys shrugged.

"What do you want, Varys?" Tyrion asked, wearily. "I'm out of the game now, old friend, speak to me plainly or spare me your company."

 _I wonder,_ Varys mused, _whether I could rick truly speaking with him plainly._ The eunuch was clearly rather fond of Tyrion Lannister. "What do you know of the last remaining Targaryens, my lord?"

This captured the man's attention. Tyrion levelled a suspicious glare at Varys before replying in a cool tone. "Viserys and his sister?"

"They do seem to be the last ones left, yes, unless you're hiding any in your breeches," Varys replied sardonically.

"I know that the boy has conquered Slaver's Bay. There have been talk of dragons reawaken. I don't suppose you have anything to share about them?"

Varys tittered. "Quite a bit, coincidentally, but not at this moment."

"Surprise, surprise," Tyrion said. "What is the point of this?"

"The point is that the dragons _have_ woken," Varys said in a hushed tone. "And when they do, they will burn every lion in their way to ashes and dust."

Tyrion was silent for a time. "If what you're saying is true," he said cautiously. "Then you mean to have me betray my family, my House, for a man who will most likely kill me on sight."

"You doubt yourself, my lord, I'm quite confident in your ability to bargain for your life. Viserys Targaryen is but a man of four and twenty, still fresh and green."

"And also a man borne of the Mad King's loin," Tyrion quipped.

Varys simply shrugged again. "He is no madder than the king who sits the throne as we speak."

"Well there's no debating that," Tyrion chuckled. "Yet he is still my nephew, mine own blood. Why trade a king bound to me through blood for one who seeks to destroy all my kin?"

"Because that is what is best for the realm. I know men well, my lord, and I know you need a purpose and desire a life far more fulfilling than hiding Sansa Stark from your crazed nephew, all while conspiring against your sister and seeking to impress your father."

"And Viserys Targaryen is what is best for the realm?"

"I do believe so, my lord."

"With no taint of his father in him?"

"As much as you have of yours in you, my lord," Varys responded airily. "Think on my words, friend. You have a few moons yet before action takes place."

"Dorne may stand with him, granted, but what is the Dornish army and whatever sellswords he can muster against the Lannister forces, the Tyrell army and my father?"

Varys tittered once more, particularly at Tyrion's mentioning of the beloved roses. "Think on my words," he repeated.


	18. Chapter 18

**11th of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Ser Jorah**

The day proved to hold many surprises for Ser Jorah, the primary one being Carmella's presence in the daily meetings Viserys held most mornings. Ser Barristan's presence, after merely a week of joining them, he was not surprised to see. Jorah had quickly noted the affection both Targaryen siblings held for the Kingsuard, and was more than little irked by it. Not only because he thought the man a traitor, obnoxious and privy to the knowledge that he'd once spied for Varys, but because Barristan seemed to dislike Carmella with a fierce intensity that irritated the northman.

The man's first words upon seeing Carmella seated to Viserys' right were, "What is she doing here?"

Normally even-tempered, Daenerys had had to lay a hand against Jorah's, stopping him from doing something he would regret. "Lady Ella is my most trusted advisor, ser," Viserys replied with an amused lilt to his tone. "Where else would she be?"

The Northern knight had grown to really appreciate Viserys' new sense of humour, and was glad to see the boy had shed most of his childish qualities; _the tantrums and self-entitlement and overall unpleasantness, really._ "I beg your pardon, Your Grace," Barristan said. "Only, she hasn't been present in any since I arrived."

"I was simply a bit busy," Carmella said brightly as she shared a not-so-secret glance with the king. Jorah grinned while Barristan frowned deeply. It was good to see Carmella back where she belonged. And even better to see Viserys smiling properly, once again, like a man as young as he should be smiling. _I do hope they've discussed Arianne Martell at length, however._ _It would not do well for them to fall apart all over again in light of her arrival._ "His Grace has filled in any holes in knowledge I might have though, so if you're ready, we can begin."

Smiling knowingly, Daenerys took a seat by her brother and Ser Jorah took one by Carmella's side. Still looking quite out of place, Barristan sat rigidly beside Dany.

"Now that that's been cleared up," Viserys said. "We have pressing matters to discuss. Namely, my daughter."

"I have offered to get her for you, your grace," Barristan said. "I could be there and back in a matter of weeks."

"I do thank you, ser," Viserys said politely. "But I've decided that Pentos may be the safest place for her at this moment in time. Illyrio will not harm her and she is much too young for him to influence or use her against me. The peace we've secured in Slaver's Bay is still precarious, Yunkai still brew with rebellion."

"The only hope they have are the Second Sons," Daenerys chimed in. "If all goes well, the night shall end with their allegiance sworn to you, brother."

"If all goes well," he agreed. "I don't forget how they fought against me before Mero was slaughtered."

"So, in case it doesn't," Carmella said. "I will personally be dining with the Golden Company on the morrow."

"Alone, my lady?" Ser Jorah inquired.

"Of course not, surely," Barristan interjected. "His Grace will accompany her."

"I fear not, my lords," Viserys shook his head. "The Golden Company captains and I don't have the best history and I have scheduled tomorrow to meet with important men from Astapor whose friendship I will need if Yunkai do revolt. I cannot risk slighting them by not being present when they arrive."

"Daenerys will accompany me, yes?"

"Of course," the girl in question answered. "We can bring Drogo and Viserion," she suggested. "Just to reinforce who the true dragons are."

"Good thinking," Carmella complimented. "I'm sure we can convince them to stand with us."

"You will need coin to convince them," Barristan argued. "And even after that, how will you convince a company founded by the Blackfyre's to fight for a Targaryen?"

"Once the Sand Snakes arrive with my family's, we'll have plenty of coin. And you leave the convincing to me, ser," she replied.

"You'll need a guard," Jorah argued, still uncomfortable with having Carmella dine with a company of men, alone.

"I'll have Viserion," she insisted.

"Jorah is right," Viserys announced. "Viserion is still no bigger than a large wolf, and we can't risk you. Dany can muster up some Unsullied to go with you, she has a good rapor with them."

"I can always—"

"I know you're Ella's unofficial sworn sword Jorah, but _I_ need you tomorrow."

"Yes, your grace."

"Speaking of sworn swords," Carmella cut in. "I've been thinking about your image, Viserys."

"Image?" Barristan ungracefully parroted.

"Yes image, ser, it's quite important to his takeover," she realised everyone at the table, except Daenerys, looked confused. "I'll explain–Ser Barristan, do you recall how my family made their arrival to King's Landing? Not only had they saved the city from Stannis, but the following day, my sister and brother went around Flea's Bottom handing out bread to recently orphaned children and buying from local sellers. By the end of the week the city had fallen in love with–what was the title? Maid Margaery?"

"She's right, your grace. Cersei was despised by the common folk, they only called for Queen Margaery when the castle opened it's doors."

"I fear my sister may have overdone it, and her intentions might not have been as genuine as Viserys' will be, but the result's the same. If you have the love of the commonfolk, as you do here, your ascension to the throne will be miles easier."

"And you'll be infinitely safer on the street if the people are willing to protect you," Ser Jorah added.

"And you need a personal guard," Dany added. "Two members of your Kingsguard who you trust implicitly and can always be seen with. Traipsing through the city with seven heavily armoured knights at your back seems like something this Joffrey would do."

Viserys nodded, seemingly engaged in all that was being said. It was a comforting thought, for Jorah, than Viserys' small council was more effective than the one Cersei held across the Narrow Sea. Idly, he speculated in the position he would hold on Viserys' council. _Lord Commander of the Kingsguard has been taken,_ he thought sourly, _and I'm certainly not equipped to occupy any other seat on the council. Being Ella's personal guard will simply have to do._

"So that's decided, then," Carmella said. "Before we arrive at King's Landing, we can send whispers through the city so the people eagerly await him; Ser Barristan will be half of his personal guard—"

"I would make you the other part, Jorah," Viserys said apologetically. "But Ella has claimed you."

The lady winked at him playfully. "Guarding me will be _much_ more fun," she told him.

And so the meeting came to end.

~x~

Deep into the evening of that day, Viserys and Ser Jorah strolled leisurely without direction through the streets of Mereen, nodding or stopping to speak with any Unsullied soldiers they saw on their travels. Ser Jorah could easily see how calm and at peace the king seemed, and was rather caught of guard to see how friendly Viserys had allowed himself to become with his Unsullied soldiers.

"They're good people," Viserys said, noticing the knight's stunned expression. "Loyal."

"If you're sure."

"They are. All those who wanted to leave were given the chance to, and only fifty did. Those who stand with me now are my men."

"You've changed, your grace."

"I know and by the seven, I'm so glad of it," he joked.

"You're more at ease now."

"I don't feel half so frustrated anymore. Everything's slowly coming together."

"Aye, it is. Patience was all you needed."

"Ella seems to have rubbed off on you. I swear, she says that word half a hundred times a day."

"I'd wager five and ten, at most," Jorah returned.

Viserys laughed in a youthful manner, before allowing a sombre expression to take over his face."I should tell Barristan to let up on her."

"Perhaps," Ser Jorah said. "She's done nothing to warrant his dislike."

"He tells me of some spy who sent letters of my actions to the Usurper. I suppose he thinks it's her."

Ser Jorah froze. "It was not—"

"But I shall tell him it could never be Ella. Not only would it be highly improbable that she decided to spy on me just as the kingdoms fell into warfare after eight years together, the information passed along is very much brief and vague."

He knows. "Your Grace—"

"Hold your tongue, Jorah. I've suspected it was you for a while, now." Yet the king didn't sound angry in the slightest. "And Ella wasn't the one confirmed it. You did."

"I am so—"

"There's no need, Jorah. It is in the past now, and I know you stopped just as we became more than companions."

"I am truly sorry."

"I know," the king even smiled. "For some abstract reason, I still trust you as much as I did before the revelation. Mayhaps it is because Ella has chosen to keep you in our inner circle despite what you have done, and I trust her judgement more than even mine own."

"Yes, she is a compassionate lady."

"Very much so, no matter how she tries to deny it. Relax Jorah, I'm not going to have you killed. You're family, ser, and I'm no kinslayer."

The conversation held so many similarities to the one he and Carmella had shared all those moons ago back with the Dothraki, that ser Jorah couldn't stop himself from tearing up. "You're a good man, Viserys. Better than I."

"I do my best," he quipped. "Now you have nothing to hide from me, ser."

"Aye."

"Now tell me," Viserys began, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. "What do you know of Prince Doran?"

 **Queen Margaery**

The day was quiet and placid, and the soft summer sun was high in the sky surrounded by dots of white clouds and a sea of blue. Breathing out in pleasure, Margaery lolled her head backwards in order to soak up as much heat possible. Her grandmother tutted disapprovingly.

"Come dear, now isn't the time to bathe in the sun."

"I disagree," Margaery answered lazily. "It's as good a time as any."

Just when she'd thought her grandmother had chosen to give her some moments peace, Margaery felt a sudden whack on her exposed arm. She opened her eyes to see Olenna looking at her expectantly her, her fan poised as a weapon in her wrinkled hands. "All right, all right, let's talk."

"Finally," the old woman said.

"What is it that's so important? Will told me it will be months yet before we make our move."

"As per usual, your brother was wrong," Olenna huffed. "Oberyn's bastards are but half a week away from Mereen if they have travelled accordingly and your sister will have put everything in order, which means—"

"They could be sailing for Dorne within a moon's turn," Margaery realised, her mouth agape.

"Exactly. So we must tie up all loose ends."

"There are no lose ends, Grandmother. You, Loras and I must simply flee."

"Don't think so rashly, you sound like your brothers! We cannot simply _flee_ ," Olenna scolded. "Loras swore sacred vows to protect Joffrey. We need to have Cersei revoke them first. I thought we could have him feign an injury and tell those Lannisters he's not fit to protect anyone anymore, much like the Kingslayer."

"I suppose that will work. I could convince Joffrey to persuade his mother as well."

"Yes dear. In addition, it seems Varys is aware of our plot—"

" _The Spider_ —"

"Don't interrupt Margaery, it's rude. Yes, Varys knows of what we plan but it seems he is our ally. Of course we don't trust him, but I have learnt he has always been a dragon loyalist and has been secretly conspiring to reinstate their rule over the realm since Robert's Rebellion."

Margaery gasped. _But he is so pampered under the current regime, he simpers to Cersei at every chance provided. But so do I._ "How so?"

"Well it turns out, the magister who gave them shelter last year was actually a friend of Varys', and it was he who gave them the dragon's eggs."

"This cannot be true."

"And yet it is," The Queen of Thorns wore a smug smile her granddaughter was sure she meant to save for Cersei when the time came. "I scarcely believed him myself, but he was quite convincing and knew too much for me to slight him."

"So Lord Varys is now part of our . . . Plans?"

"It seems so."

Margaery mulled over her grandmother's words. _It's happening!_ Since her thirteenth nameday Margaery had awaited the chance to finally be reunited with her sister, and since her marriage to Joffrey she had eagerly awaited the chance to finally start the plan that would be Cersei's downfall.

"We must find Loras, then," the queen said. "And get started on his dismissal-worthy injury."

 **Lord Willas Tyrell**

In the pretty palace of Highgarden, Willas Tyrell finally let his head rest against his feather stuffed pillow. The day had been long and tiring; with both his parents and grandmother watching over Margaery in King's Landing, Will had been left to watch over their lands alone. He was very able at this, mind, and usually content to do his duty, but with their recently won battle at the Blackwater, many families were now left without the men who had earned their coin, and were desperate for Willas to concoct some answer to all their plights. The Tyrell's had money aplenty, that was true, but with the chestload of golden dragons they'd shipped off to his sister in the east, and the money forked out to keep King's Landing afloat and pay for his other sister's wedding, the young lord was finding it rather hard to supplement all these father-less families, keep the palace running, pay all of the household knights and fighting ones and still find time to keep up with his reading.

 _I do wonder if perhaps I am doing this all wrong. Father has never seemed so stressed as I and he's been Lord of Highgarden for years._

Lord Willas soon came to the conclusion that his grandmother had been the one to make the running of the Reach so smooth and relatively stress-free. That and the fact that his father also had his wife, Alerie, to confide in after a hard day's work, whereas Willas only had his books and a soft bed. _Not so bad, mind, I could be sleeping on something much less desirable._

As he shut his eyes, he thought of his sister, Margaery, of how crafty and sweet she truly was and how this plan and the bastard atop the Iron Throne had managed to corrupt even her sweet nature. He sincerely hoped that one day, when the dragons were back in power and the plan was over, the kind, unsuspecting girl from his youth would return and banish this conniving Queen Margaery, though he loved them both.

But he could not think of one sister and not have his mind drift to the other–the Raven Queen, they called her. He could not think of this one without feeling the customary pangs of pain and guilt in his chest. Despite how happy she seemed to be with these Targaryens or the fact that she also seemed very much in love with the eldest, Willas wanted Carmella back home in Highgarden, running after Garlan and despising him as she had done before. Only the fact that he knew she had changed beyond recognition by now kept Willas from sailing to Essos himself for her. He saw what his family dutifully ignored—all except Margaery—he saw that their rebellious Carmel had died on the Narrow Sea, and in her place, this Lady Ella person had been born. It had broken Willas beyond repair when he'd waved his sister goodbye. Sure, Garlan had cried and raged and mourned, but Willas had cracked and crumbled and missed her.

Initially, he'd believed Lady Ella would never love her Tyrell's again, he'd seen her as an entirely different person, darker somehow. Yet of late, Lady Ella had reached out to him, she'd sent him letters accepting his apology, forgiving him for missing her, and she'd shown that Lady Ella was not the enemy, she'd shown that Lady Ella might not even be a bad thing. Word written in the letter he'd received the day before were imprinted into her brother's mind:

 _Brother,_

 _I fear my heart has led me astray as it did so frequently in our childhood. I was envious of you, Will, jealous that you had garnered Grandmother's favour simply by being the heir where I always felt inadequate and I was angry that you'd so easily cast me aside for the dusty books in our library. I let my emotions push my best friend away and I have done so all this time, even as I transitioned from being Lady Carmel to the person I am today. I was a fraud, Will, and mayhaps I still am. I fled our home without so much as a second glance, leaving you and Garlan, the person I claimed to love the most. And then I got here, and I lied to Viserys and Dany so they would love me for me. And partly so I could not risk detection._

 _Willas, I lied to them about most things, and when I was exposed, I felt bare and vulnerable and utterly deplorable. The king and I have now reconciled, and no longer will I betray myself nor my feelings out of fear or jealousy. I love you, Will, and when I return, we shall be brother and sister once more, even if you only remember me as Lady Carmel. For we are kin, despite my love for Viserys and Dany, you and I and Marg and Garlan and Loras are all bound by blood and soon, by love and none shall take that from us._

 _But I must confess, my primary purpose for this letter was to unload on you as I did so many times years ago. Arianne Martell makes her way towards us and with her she brings the sword that shall cut through any relationship I share with the king and I am clueless on what I must do. I love him, Will, and to see them wed would cut through me like a sharpened knife, yet I cannot possibly stand in their way. You were always the smartest of us, brother, and in times of need one must look to one's family for courage. I'm looking to you now, Will._

 _Yours, Lady Ella._

Her words had been fevered and frantic and emotional and it had brightened Willas' day for a time, before he'd heard all the petitioners. He'd been elated to find that inside this Lady Ella there was still love and happiness and fear and honesty and not simply calculating intelligence. They had moulded her into a weapon for their plan but she had become a person who Willas was now glad to say he loved. _I'm looking to you now, Will._ Somehow, he'd always ended up being his sibling's crutch in dark times, and he was happy to be his sister's in hers.

As of yet, he hadn't formulated a reply. He wanted the words to be perfect so he had chosen to give himself time to think upon them. It would not do to ruin their friendship so early on, before he even had the chance to hold her again.

That night, Lord Willas dreamt of a lake where he and his siblings lounged happily.


	19. Chapter 19

**I've decided to now refer to Carmella is simply Ella in the narrative, because we've reached the point where Carmella now exclusively sees herself as Ella and has instructed her family that that is who she is as well, apologies if this is confusing. ALSO, Harry Strikland won't be so cowardly and boring in this fic.**

 **P.S. Remember that Aegon/Young Griff doesn't exist in this fic. Too complicated.**

* * *

 **12th of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Ella of Westeros**

The Golden Company were a raucous bunch and entirely too fond of wine.

Ella tried hard not to judge them as she knew they were the finest company of sellswords known to man, yet she couldn't stop from curling her lips somewhat at some of the comments the drunker men were making. It didn't help that she remembered some of them from when they'd laughed Viserys out of their hall and refused to even spare him a second thought, even. _It's about time they realised the Blackfyre line has ended and only through a Targaryen will they find glory._ Viserion prowled threateningly behind her, while Drogon did the same for Daenerys who was also, utterly unimpressed with the spectacle these men were making of themselves.

"I do apologise, my lady," Harry Strikland said. "You must excuse us, we recently managed to leave our contract with Myr and the men are rather happy about this, they found the city rather boring."

"I did notice," Ella replied. "And though I do enjoy festivities and celebration I must call for their attention now."

"Good luck making them heed you, my lady," Harry told her with an air of condescension.

Ella could tell Harry was not her biggest fan, he treated her with poorly concealed scepticism and had refused to make his men act civilised and hear her offer. She figured he was offended that Viserys had not attended the meeting himself, but after how the Golden Company had mocked him when Viserys first beseeched them for help, the king was adamant that he was not present, in case they refused again and he lost his temper. Daenerys stood silently by Drogon, occasionally entertaining the jokes of the men by her. Grey Worm and his fellow Unsullied clutched their spears tightly. Ella knew she must do something.

"Very well," she told Harry. "Viserion, come," she ordered and the cream-coloured dragon obliged. When he was near him, she leant over to whisper directly to him. "Roar," she instructed.

The cry the dragon let forth was piercing and loud and utterly impossible to ignore. All the men of the Golden Company howled in pain and held their palms over their ears, the Unsullied, famed for the lack of feeling, groaned in discomfort. Even Daenerys, who had heard his screech a few times before twitched and fidgeted and pressed a finger to her ear. Ella though, she stood tall, smiling smugly at Harry Strikland, even though her ears cried in pain too. _Good boy,_ she cooed in her head, _good boy._ Small flames even escaped his mouth, his furious flames tinged with gold. When she felt her point had been made, she placed a hand over Viserion's head. "Hush," she said and after a few more moments of agony, the dragon closed its jaws.

"Now that I have your attention," she turned to the men. "I will make my proposal. Do I have your attention, sers?"

She received no reply. "That, my friends, is what a true dragon sounds and looks like and they heed no orders but that of myself, Lady Ella and my brother, the king," Daenerys announced, moving forward. "And we will be more than happy to make you as fearsome as he if you so wish."

"The princess is right," Ella smiled. "His Grace would have you fight for him and return the dragons to power back in Westeros, where your founder himself originated from. He will return you to greatness, you will be valued members of his society and the best of you will be granted lands and titles from those who stood against the Targaryens. Who stood against the kin of your founder, Aegor. A Blackfyre he may have been, but the blood of the dragon ran through his veins the same as it does the princess stood before you and her brother who has conquered Slaver's Bay."

"I'd fight for King Viserys if only to rape the golden queen across the sea when we sack the city!" A voice called out from the back. Other's murmured in agreement.

"Your senses are addled with wine," Ella said. "You do not think clearly, but I shall give you a day to consider His Grace's very considerable offer. Give your swords to his cause, swear your loyalty to him, and King Viserys will take you with him to Westeros, he will shower you with generations of favour and turn you sellswords to knights and men of nobility. For your initial support, he will of course provide you with some monetary gain. One hundred thousand golden dragons."

"His Grace is very generous and his envoy very convincing," Harry said slowly. "But what else can he offer us?"

Ella knew this to be a common trick, when someone clearly needed your services, you asked them for more even though you would've settled for what is already given. So in return, she replied, "Fire and Blood."

In the background, Daenerys chuckled softly as both Rhaegal and Drogon broke into low growls.

"Then we must of course, accept," Harry smiled conspiratorially. "We cannot refuse the actual dragons, can we men?" He called.

And the Golden Company erupted in cries of Viserys' name. Ella winked at Daenerys and Dany beamed back at her.

~x~

A contract was drawn up and by the end of the feast, Daenerys and Ella had secured the allegiance of the Golden Company. By nightfall, Ella deduced that the company of sellswords were actually on their way to aid Viserys and that was why they'd broken their contract with Myr, which meant she needn't have sweetened their offer so much. She wondered who had approached the company first and made the initial persuasion. She knew the history of the Golden Company, of how they hated Targaryens and always had, it was why they'd laughed at Viserys when he first asked for their help. She remembered it vividly. He'd been miserable for days afterwards. She figured maybe Illyrio had gotten them and reminded them that black or red a dragon is still a dragon. _Oh well, we have their swords now and that adds a further ten thousand to the eight thousand Unsullied._ That number did not even factor in the fifteen thousand Dothraki they also commanded, since Viserys planned to leave them in Essos.

When all was finished, Daenerys and Ella made their way back to Mereeen with roughly half of the company, while the rest would join up with them when they left Slaver's Bay. Viserion and Drogon played happily in the air, breathing light into the dark night. Daenerys had thought to wait and leave for Mereen in the morning, but far too excited to stay put, Ella had urged them to leave hours before dawn so as to reach Mereen just as the sun broke. Her time with the Dothraki gave her a great speed on her mare that Harry and his other commanders found hard to match. Daenerys, of course, rode miles ahead of them. A khaleesi would always outmatch anyone but her own Dothraki on a horse.

She was immensely proud of herself. _I know I trained for this but . . . Seven I didn't think that Grandmother's annoying lessons would actually do any good! Well, I'm sure having the actual princess there and the dragons help lean things to our favour._

"Lady Ella!" Corman, a young naïve boy Harry Strikman had apparently taken pity on, called in his high voice. "Lady Ella! Captain 'Arry says they've seen riders in the dark!"

Ella almost cursed the boy for his loud, piercing voice which was sure to have reached the ears of these shadow riders. Instead, she reminded herself he was only two and ten and an orphan besides. "Quiet, Corman," she instructed. "Now, who are these riders?"

"M'lady," he said breathless. "One claims to be a princess, but I told 'er the only princess round 'ere was Daenerys Stormborn. And you too, but the official one were—"

"What did she look like, Corman?" Ella interrupted impatiently.

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

Without Ella, or his sister, Viserys' day had been rather tame. He'd met and ate with the scholars and noble men from Astapor, and secured their shaky alliance that he wouldn't count on, ate with the Second Sons and though he hadn't convinced the company to fight for him, he'd managed to have them _not_ fight for Yunkai, and sparred with a few of his Unsullied soldiers, which did brighten his day somewhat since the eunuch soldiers had begun loosening up around him and would occasionally laugh and joke. _They even took Grey Worm,_ he internally complained.

So to fill his time until his two favourite women returned, Viserys had talked with Barristan about how his invasion should play out, wrote down name suggestions for his daughter then personally attended to some of the families in Mereen bringing wine and bread with Jorah and then returned and ate some more with some of the Dothraki. _Ah, I need to find something for them to do. If I leave them here they may disband, and if I take them . . . I'll ask Dany when she returns, she knows them best._

~x~

"Your Grace," Barristan sounded quite out of breath early the next morning. "Your Grace, the princess and Lady Ella have arrived."

It was rather lucky the king had decided to rise early so he could enjoy a few hours of leisure. "Already? Have they been hurt?"

"No, but they brought the Golden Company."

"Really?" Viserys was astounded, as he rose and fastened a bow around his hair. "I had faith in Ella but I wasn't sure. . ."

"Yes, they fill your hall as we speak." The Kingsguard voice was hard and Viserys suddenly remembered how Barristan had slewn the last leader of the sellsword company. _Maekar the something,_ Viserys recalled, _the last of the Blackfyres._ "But there is something else, Your Grace. They have also brought with them the envoys from Dorne."

 _Envoys from Dorne?_ That meant—

"Arianne Martell is here, Your Grace."

In a second, Viserys abruptly reconsidered whether his letter to Prince Doran had truly been wise.

~x~

The Sand Snakes were indeed a rather foreboding trio. Viserys had just managed to differentiate them; Obara, was the fiercest looking one, tall and broad and not too pretty, and fought with a spear according to Ella, though he had no idea how she knew this. Her younger sister, borne from a noblewoman, Nymeria, was pretty and sleek and well-spoken and favoured a whip, if he remembered correctly, and lastly there was Tyene who was fair and blue eyed and put Viserys on edge the most out of her sisters. He didn't particularly like how Ella stood comfortably with them, while they made their introductions. Or how she steadily avoided so much as glancing upon Arianne Martell.

Arianne Martell was gorgeous. She was short mind, standing no higher than five foot five, yet she was extremely curvaceous and had long, thick black hair and dark enchanting eyes. Her attraction was very obvious and loud and enticing yet . . . Viserys found the exoticness he'd thought to find himself enraptured with was not there. He recognised her beauty and wouldn't have turned her away from his bed had he been single and not in love with his Lady Ella, but he was not drawn by it, he didn't drink it in and he was not lost in her calculating brown eyes. And when she spoke, her voice was smooth and silky and reminded him far too much of a snake to be seductive. _Even when Ella turns on her charm, she never sounds so deadly._

"I do have other cousins, Your Grace," Arianne continued confidently. "My uncle is not known for being conservative," she chuckled lowly. "And then there is I, daughter of Prince Doran and heiress of Sunspear."

"I have always admired Dorne," Viserys replied carefully, wondering if he was saying the right thing. _Perhaps I should've kissed her hand?_ "Of all Seven Kingdoms, it was only yours that could withstand the might of my forefathers."

"Your admiration is an honour to bestow," she simpered prettily.

"Let me introduce you to my household," Viserys decided to stand. He gestured to Ser Barristan. "I'm sure you've all heard of Barristan the Bold, my newly appointed Kingsguard."

"Oh yes, my father speaks so highly of you ser," Tyene said melodically while her sisters and cousins nodded in agreement. _I wonder if my daughter will have to take a Bastard name such as Sand. I wonder if she will turn out like these three._

Viserys then introduced Grey Worm as the head of his Unsullied army, Missandei as his translator and cupbearer and one of his sister's lady in waiting. "And then of course, my sister, Daenerys Stormborn, who they dub Mother of Dragons, the Princess of Dragonstone."

"Tales of your beauty have not been exaggerated," Arianne dimpled at his sister. "I should warn you though, there are many men lusting after your hand, princess."

Dany giggled politely, the way Ella had taught her. "They shall be lusting for a long time."

"And lastly," Viserys said, glad to find his voice did not waver. "Lady Ella, formerly known as Lady Carmel of Highgarden, daughter of Lord Tyrell, my closest companion and advisor. And her sworn sword, Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island."

Arianne regarded Ella for a short while, her face revealing nothing. Eventually, she said, "I have heard much of you, my lady. My cousins and uncle speak fondly of their time with you. The black hair does you well."

Ella curtsied and smiled. "It looks better on you, my lady."

Viserys was baffled. When did Ella meet the Sand Snakes? His face must've spelled his confusion for Tyene spoke again. "It was my sisters, my father and I who accompanied Lady Carmel—sorry, _Ella_ , to the Free Cities to meet with you and the princess. We were with her as she first saw you and trained with her during the time before that."

 _Trained? In what? Surely not embroidery or singing. With a spear? Or a whip? Or Seven forbid it, poisons?_ "You must tell me about it sometime," Viserys told her.

After this, the Tyrell coin was introduced as were some of the gifts Prince Doran had sent to the king and thus, Viserys was introduced to his betrothed and soon to be good family.

~x~

While they walked through his grounds with Ser Barristan not too far behind, Viserys learned that Arianne Martell could talk for days, and by the way she behaved and the conversations Jorah had overhead, was certainly no maid. He thought on whether Ella was. _She must be,_ he insisted, _when would she ever had the chance to engage in such activities? I mutilated the first boy who ever paid her any attention._

She told him of the Water Gardens, of Sunspear, of her favourite Dornish and non-Dornish dishes and mostly of her uncle, the Red Viper and his many conquests. Each time she broke off from a sentence and giggled darkly, he could tell she was hiding a particularly unladylike memory. _At least she is not boring,_ he thought, _and she loves her cousins well so she should have no problem with my daughter._ After a while, Viserys saw that Arianne was attempting to have him divulge the inner details of his relationship with Ella. He toyed with her with obtuse answers, attempting to sense whether she had a healthy sense of humour or not. _If her father refuses, I will be tied to her for the rest of my days. I must make the best of things._ He was pleased to find that she did.

"Your Grace!" Arianne chastised him, playfully swatting his shoulder the way Ella would. "You're toying with me!"

Viserys couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on his face. "You were being coy with me, my lady."

She laughed again. "Fine, I'll be direct. What is Lady Ella to you?"

"Are you sure you want the answer to that question, princess? We have only just met."

"You are to be mine, Your Grace, bound to me for life, I wish to know everything about you before we make our vows in the sept."

Viserys grinned again. "Lady Ella is as I told you earlier, my closest companion."

"Is that all, Your Grace? The way people speak if her, it sounds as if she is your queen."

"It is simply an empty title," he assured her.

"Tell me true, do you mean to take her as a paramour when we wed? Because I can be open minded, Your Grace, I am Dornish truly, but I would ask that you allow me to bear your heir first and keep her hidden for the first few years of our union—"

"Princess, don't fret," Viserys cut in soothingly. "I am not inclined to take a paramour once I am wed, especially not one of such noble birth or who I have such high regard for."

"I see," she said. "Have you and her—"

"Never, my sweet," he said. "I do, however, have a child from a woman I was involved with during my time in Pentos." The king thought that since this woman _might_ have complete access to his not only his heir, but the rest of his children _and_ his bedchambers if they did marry he'd best start their relationship off with honesty. "A little girl," he added fondly.

Arianne Martell cradled his hands in her own, soft ones. For a moment, Viserys forgot that he wanted Ella, that he loved Ella, and felt Arianne's hands as he envisioned his little girl playing with her family in the Water Gardens. _No—stop this, stop._ "In Dorne we do not scorn those born outside of a marriage. Look at my cousins, they are as respected as I, treated as sons of a Prince of Dorne, which they are. Your child will face no scorn from me, Your Grace."

Viserys looked into her dark, wanton eyes, and looked past the sultriness and calculation and seductiveness and tried hard to find the girl who would welcome his bastard into her home as one of their own. He wasn't sure what he found, but it wasn't bad.

 **Prince Doran**

"This is an insult!" Oberyn yelled. "Another slight against us!"

Doran had thought long and hard on King Viserys' letter, as he did with most things. Not only had the letter itself surprised the prince, but the contents had left him dumbfounded for ages. The king's words were clearly, carefully chosen, and not disrespectful in the slightest. _I beseech you to place yourself in my position,_ it had read _, I know you yourself married out of pure, unadulterated love, and I wish to do the same. I wish to wed my one true love, Ella Tyrell, eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Tyrell. I do not imply that I could never love your daughter, but I do not know what the future would hold for us if I enter a marriage besotted with someone else. Please do consider my offer, but I will understand and happily comply if you choose to deny me._ Doran had shockingly taken no offence at the king's letter. _It says much about his character that he wrote to me rather than taking the girl as his mistress or simply marrying her._ Yet Oberyn had argued it had been the girl, this Lady Ella, to force him to write to them.

"I don't believe so, brother," Doran said. "He seems perfectly polite and respectful."

"You cannot be falling for this, Doran," Oberyn hissed. "The deal was to wed _Arianne_ to him and make her queen and the Tyrell's could have his sister."

"Yes but circumstances are not what they were. The Tyrells risked everything when they sent that girl to Tyrosh, and if we wanted the king to favour Arianne we should've sent her to him—"

"But _you_ said no because that wife of yours threatened to slit her throat," Oberyn shot back.

"At the time, it seemed more sensible to let Olenna make such a big risk. We could not risk being found out, brother," Doran explained patiently.

"So you mean to let this king have his way?"

"He didn't have to consult with me, Oberyn, but he did and for that he should be rewarded."

"He is not a _boy_ , Doran, he is a king and if we indulge him with something like this he will become as unbearable as his father before him."

"He is offering his sister to Quentyn and Dorne a place on the small council as well as another position for Arianne or Trystane."

"So a slither of power is supposed to make up for the loss of queenship?"

"We had Elia," Doran reminded him. "She was going to be queen, yet that gave her no more power."

"Maybe not, but her son would've been king."

"There is that," Doran relented. "I sympathise with him, brother. I am fine with giving Arianne a position on the small council, the first woman to do so, she will go down in history, and another Dornish seat in addition. One of your girls can take it, or even you. And we keep Daenerys, his last family member, his heiress, and surely his most valued possession. If you truly insist, I can force him to betroth his firstborn son to any one of my grandchildren and thus, you have your Dornish king."

Oberyn paced angrily for a time, muttering curses under his breaths and names of deadly poisons, but Doran knew his brother and knew when he had won an argument. _Patience brother,_ Doran thought, _let the boy have this small kindness and wait. Arianne queen or not we will reap our revenge._ Doran had no need to start his correspondence with the king on a bad note. _Let him be in debt to me. In debt to my daughter._

"We wait first, we see what Arianne has to say about him."

"Yes, brother," Doran nodded, a placid smile upon his face.


	20. Chapter 20

**20th of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Ella of Westeros**

The arrival of Dorne had completely shifted the dynamics of King Viserys' admittedly small court. The money they'd brought from her family had properly secured the Golden Company and Viserys had already sent Barristan on a mission to acquire several ships for them to sail to Dorne and eventually create Viserys' own fleet, and his Unsullied, partnered with the Dothraki had attacked several Yunka'i fleet and acquiredcjust enough ships for Viserys to set sail with at least half his army. The money had also reminded everyone just how rich Ella actually was, which leant her some added respect from her peers. Viserys had also decided to buy several gown not only for Daenerys, but Ella and Arianne as well, and a few silks for his daughter that he had administered several former slave girls to sew into something pretty for her. The only thing they waited for now, before leaving Slaver's Bay, which Daenerys had started to call Dragon's Bay, was Barristan's return and Ella and Viserys to find trusted people to rule the city in his stead.

Out of respect, Ella kept far from Viserys' rooms and spoke to him only during meals and meeting where she moved to his left, rather than his right or sometimes sat by Ser Barristan, a seat away from the king. He had not actively tried to exclude her, but Ella was not prepared to have the wrath of Arianne Martell upon her although she was sure she was smarter and stronger than the girl.

Upon their arrival, Tyene and Obara had also resumed their 'lessons' with Ella. Obara re-training with her with a spear and Tyene in poisons. The spear was much easier to become re-accustomed to, whereas Ella found it hard to remember all Tyene and Oberyn had taught her about potions the last time she'd seen them, and had already digested two unpleasant, though not poisonous, concoctions.

" _Think_ , Lady El," Tyene would always snap, using hers and her sister's new nickname for Ella—a copy of Nymeria's own shortname. "What does it smell like to you? An antidote or a poison?"

"It _smells_ like a _privy_ ," Ella would usually retort.

During these unofficial lessons, Nymeria would normally sit and watch, quietly amused and chime in—unhelpfully, in Ella's opinion—her thoughts on Ella's progress.

"You have gone soft, El," Nymeria would purr. "Obara's half-drunk and you still can't fall her."

It was during one of these lessons that Viserys found her one day. Luckily, it happened to be the day Obara was feeling pitiful and had been going easy on her pupil, so Viserys watched as Ella knocked the spear from the bastard's hands and pointed her own threateningly against Obara's neck.

"I yield," the woman rasped, a smirk on her face. "Still too slow," she added.

"If I can best you, I think I'll do fine against the Lannister forces," Ella teased.

"That is true," Obara laughed.

From her spot in the shade, Nymeria called, "I'd like to see you take _me_ on."

"Any day, Lady Nym," she called back.

"Well, well, well," Viserys strolled into the small, circular garden, with Arianne Martell on his arm. "What do we have here?"

"My cousins must be sparring again," the princess told him. "I hope you haven't ruined His Grace's gardens with your blood," she tutted.

"No blood spilt today," Nymeria said. "We were only sparring with Lady El, and she would likely faint at the sight."

"Oh please," Ella scoffed under her breath.

" _Ella?_ " Viserys repeated, dumbfounded. "Ella? _Fighting?_ "

"You didn't know?" Arianne asked, looking up at him.

"We used to do it when we travelled together," Ella explained. "Sometimes Prince Oberyn would even step in."

Ella was utterly mortified as Viserys regarded her in a whole new light. _I wonder what he will think of me now. Maybe he will like me better if I am more like his Dornish princess._

"So you can handle a spear?" The king asked, bewilderment clear in his voice.

Ella nodded bashfully. "I'm much better with a sword, though," she said, causing Obara and Nymeria to sputter in laughter behind her. "My brother used to train me," this caused them to laugh harder. "And Prince Oberyn." That shut them up.

"I learn something new about you every day, Lady Ella," Arianne said, releasing Viserys' arm. "Just the other day Tyene told me how well you speak the Dothraki tongue, even that you had a beau among them."

Tyene had a loose tongue when around her cousin, whom she saw as a sister, Ella had come to learn. _Much like myself and Dany._ It made being in the fair-skinned girl's company much less fun when Ella knew she must watch what she says else risk it getting back to Arianne, and evidently Viserys. _Though her loose tongue sometimes cuts both ways,_ Ella thought, reminding herself of what Tyene had told her of the king's relationship with his betrothed. _Tyene claims they're closer by the day, and that he even told her of his daughter. Ella wondered if Viserys knew Arianne told Tyene and Nymeria nearly everything he told her on their leisurely strolls._

"I remember less and less of the language as the days go by that I don't use it."

"And your beau?" Arianne pressed. "Do you remember less and less of him?"

"Or her," Obara interjected, unhelpfully, as Viserys began frowning.

"I didn't have one," Ella answered. "Tyene must've misunderstood me. I told her of the close bond you develop with your horse whilst among the Dothraki."

"Ah, perhaps you are right, Tyene was never one to be patient. She near likely misheard you."

Ella nodded sagely, avoiding the princess' eye, _what game is she playing?_ All week, the princess had scarcely spoken to Ella, despite Daenerys telling her that Arianne had asked plenty about the king's Raven Queen, and when the two were forced to converse, the princess generally asked normal questions without the mischievous glint in her eyes that was present now.

"Well, I think we should see more of this sparring match," Viserys suddenly pronounced.

"I do think I agree, Your Grace," Arianne said. "Come, Obara, get up and show the king how you fight."

Obara waved a disinterested hand at her cousin. Ella was almost surprised that she'd refused the Princess of Dorne until she remembered that Obara was near thirty whereas Arianne was closer to Ella in age, no older then four and twenty. There was no way Obara would let her younger cousin order her about, no matter her being a princess. She was Oberyn's daughter, after all. "I am tired," she declared. "Teaching thick-skull over there is exhausting. Call Tyene and let them brew some pretty potion together and amuse the king."

Ella glanced at Viserys to gauge his reaction at Obara's words and tone and was taken aback to find that he wore a small grin that spoke of his amusement at her casual defiance. _It must be the princess' influence on him. Or he must not want to risk offending his future family._ "Tyene is entertaining my sister at this present moment. Or the other way around, since Dany is showing her the dragons again."

 _So that's where Dany took Viserion._

"I'll take her," Nymeria announced, wringing her hands together. "Been a long time since I held a whip."

"It's been a week," Arianne told her.

"Too long," her cousin replied.

Ella felt her heart race, momentarily, until Nymeria added, "I won't use my whip—I would win within seconds and it would be no fun. Obara lend me your spear and Lady El can take a sword."

"I can't use my wooden one," Ella protested as Obara flung her pointed and bloodied sword to her sister.

"Here—take mine," Viserys offered, unsheathing his Valyrian steel.

All the girls, barring Obara, watched in wonder as the impressive silver glistened under the light, the blade seemed to go on for days, getting sharper and sharper. Ella saw how wide Arianne's eyes had become, and abruptly recollected a conversation she'd had with Daenerys some days before.

 _"He says she always ask to see him use his sword," Dany whispered. "She heard of his lessons with Jorah and how you once watched and cheered him on."_

 _"How the bloody hell did she hear that?" Ella had whispered back. "I haven't watched him in weeks."_

 _"I may have told Tyene," Dany confessed. "But he always refuses. When I asked him why, he said certain things he'd choose to keep private. He won't even let her touch the sword, claims it's too precious. I can't understand why, I know it's Valyrian steel and all but it's not as if it's Blackfyre or another ancestral item."_

 _"Wow," Ella breathed. "She's not missing much anyways," she added as an afterthought. "Remember not to get too chatty or comfortable with Tyene and her sisters."_

 _"Oh I know, I don't truly trust them, but it is nice having more girls around the place, isn't it? Drogon loves the attention."_

 _"It is," Ella admitted, thinking of how much fun Nymeria and Obara could be and trying hard not to think of Arianne and her thin silks and luxurious jewellery as she strolled around the castle grounds on the arm of the king._

"She will surely misuse this and cut my dear cousin," Arianne said.

"Nonsense," Viserys responded. "I trust El's judgement." Despite the circumstances, the compliment gave Ella's stomach small, lovestruck, butterflies.

"I am not afraid of a cut, anyways."

Obara barked out a loud laugh. "Leave them, Arianne. One of them shall learn a lesson and give us something to laugh about at dinner."

"I do agree," Viserys smiled, handing his shimmering weapon to Ella and earning a look of appraisal from Obara.

Arianne still looked resentful, but said nothing that confirmed it, merely holding onto her promised' arm and wishing Ella good luck. Surprisingly, Arianne's wish of good luck sounded quite sincere which only reinforced Ella's determination to somehow win this fight. "Take care of my sword, El," he mouthed playfully to her.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Watch and learn, Your Grace."

Nymeria, who had now applied very light armour, flung her sister's spear from hand to hand, testing the weight. Ella might've normally done the same, but Viserys' sword felt rather heavy and she feared she may drop the thing if she tried acting too cocky. Fiercely, she gripped the hilt and called to mind everything Garlan had taught her about sword fighting, and then, everything Oberyn had shown her as well. _They say Loras is just as good, if not better, than Garlan now. I wonder if Garlan taught him as he taught me._ She ached to take of her sweat riddled breast plate, but she knew she would be seriously hurt without it.

"You ready?" Nymeria grinned widely, her white teeth shimmering. "Remember not to bleed too much, don't want the Queen of Thorns after me for hurting her dear granddaughter."

"Afraid of a little old lady now, Nym?" Obara teased.

"She should be," Ella declared, proudly. "My family is not be trifled with," she winked at Viserys, willing him to understand that she also spoke of _their_ family. "Particularly my grandmother."

"Big words from a small girl," Nymeria said. "Let's see if the skills match the talk—" and suddenly, the tip of the spear lunged for Ella's chest almost knocking her off her feet.

Instincts willed her to rise her sword to meet Nymeria's weapon inches away from her lungs. The Dornish girl smiled wily. _You're slow,_ Ella said to herself, _much slower than her. You won't win with speed._ Realising that Nymeria would not strike next, Ella raised the sword which still felt heavy. Luckily, she had managed to keep her strength and endurance up during her years in Essos, even if her speed had decreased, and so was able to manage the sword with some ease. Quickly, she swiped the sword at her opponent's feet, Nymeria only just jumped above the blade in surprise. Before anyone realised what was happening, Ella struck again, striking Nymeria just under her ribs.

"And so the rose grows her thorns," she taunted. "You want to fight? Let's fight."

Nymeria came at her with full force—Ella was only just able to defend herself from the torrent of assaults that left no room for her to launch her own offensive attacks. _A wilful lady can do more harm than a pointy sword._ Olenna's words rang in her ears, and under sudden inspiration, Ella knew how to win the spar.

"Oh Lady Nym," she cooed. "Has it been too long? Will you let your drunkard of a sister out skill you with a spear?" Ella could almost see the steam escaping Nymeria's ears.

Ella got her opening when Nymeria, quite frustrated, lunged angrily at Ella's chest again. Ella placed both hands on her Valyrian steel and swiped purposely through the spear, denting it and sending it whirling out of Nymeria's hands. The girl sprinted away, apparently searching for her whip. Ella ran after her, not quickly enough as Nymeria faced her again, her eight foot long whip in hand a vicious smile in place. _Eight foot long . . . Get in close, Ella!_ And so she did, again, leaving the spectators and her adversary in shock. Ella flipped the weighty sword in her hand, using the hilt to repeatedly strike Nymeria in effective places, her knees, elbows, stomach and shins, finally flooring the woman. Out of breath and blood gushing from her nose, Nymeria eventually surrendered.

"I _yield_ ," she spat. "You sneaky little _cunt_."

Ella smiled widely, the taste of her own blood seeping in between her teeth. She stretched out her arm and lifted Nymeria up. The Dornish bastard promptly twisted Ella's arm once she was upright. "Remember; a battle is only over when one of you is _dead_."

"I think I'll take your surrender instead," Ella replied. "Your father probably wouldn't be too grateful if I killed you."

Nymeria laughed. "No, I fear he wouldn't be. Good game, my lady," she added jokingly.

"Ah, the sword did most of the work. Valyrian steel will always triumph."

This time, Viserys answered. "No, _you_ will always triumph, El," his voice and face were so soft and sincere, that Ella flushed profusely, his gaze suddenly making her shy.

"Maybe you'll take me on next time, Your Grace?"

Arianne chuckled, as did Obara. "That I would pay to see," the princess said.

"She's just having a good day," Nymeria scoffed. "I'll go against you again, when we're back in Westeros and see how well you fare in your gowns and silks."

"Oh I'll just have my brother's fight for me," Ella retorted. "You have heard of the Knight of Flowers, yes?"

The group continued to laugh and joke for another hour or so. Arianne still made veiled jabs at Ella, but the Tyrell ignored them and did her best to forgive the princess, reminding herself that she would feel exactly the same about a girl her betrothed was in love with. _Let her have these small victories,_ Ella mentally told herself, _when we are home at least I will have my family when I feel like this._ Although Nymeria complained about losing and made bold statements about how another match between the two of them would go, Ella felt as though the spar had actually brought her closer to the two bastards as well as show a different side of her to Viserys who seemed to very much appreciate it if his admiring glances he kept shooting her way were anything to go by. For a while, Ella forgot that they were to head to Pentos and then Dorne within days and thus end the peaceful limbo they'd all had in Mereen. _Back in Westeros, Vis will be king, Arianne his queen, Obara and Nymeria back to being whatever it is they were and me, well, I will be back in Westeros._ It still saddened her to think of returning to her birthplace, but now that she'd cleared the air with Willas and herself she felt a lot less unhappy about it and rather excited to finally have her family around. _I love Dany and Viserys dearly, but it shall feel euphoric, I think, to have a sister and brothers aplenty and my grandmother back again._

Eventually, Tyene and Daenerys returned with Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. Tyene looked triumphant for some reason, while Dany looked sheepish, and Ella groaned internally, wondering what Daenerys had let slip to the bastard this time. _I should spend more time with her, find her some friends. That must be the reason she is so chatty around Tyene._

To Ella's surprise, Viserys suggested he and her go for a walk with their respective dragons, without his betrothed it seemed. Without sounding too eager, Ella readily agreed.

"You will not take Arianne, Your Grace?" Tyene asked in a melodic voice.

Ella saw Viserys give her a steady stare before replying. "It has been a long time since we've let the dragons truly hunt. I wouldn't want to scare the princess."

Tyene had no reply to this and was forced to let the matter drop. Daenerys talked the Dornish women into accompanying her to a local magister's home and happily, Ella strolled away, Viserion by her side, and his namesake on her other.

"You never told me you could fight," he said once they were out of earshot.

"You never asked," she instantly returned. "And I wasn't positive that I was still any good," she added.

"You're better than I."

"I think we're equally as skilled," she said, hoping to heal his no doubt, bruised ego. "Your stance is better than mine, and you're quicker than I. _Everyone's_ quicker than me," she grumbled. "I've grown much too slow."

"You have a good defence and innovative offences. Seven _hells_ , Ella, you're just full of surprises aren't you? Is there anything you can't do?"

"I don't sing very well," she responded, causing Viserys to laugh.

"At least I know I can trust you to defend your person and not get yourself slaughtered."

"You can," she said. "You can also trust me to defend others too." _Like your babe._

"Keep training with them, and watch them spar together to see how they truly fight. I still don't trust them."

"Not even the princess?" Ella tried to keep her voice level, and though she was sure it was, she still didn't think it had fooled the king.

"I still love you," he told her softly.

"That doesn't answer my question."

He sighed. "I don't _not_ trust Arianne. She seems fun and genuine, with me at the very least."

"Birds of a feather fly together, and she flies very closely with the selfsame women you don't trust at all."

"It's complicated, El," he pushed his fingers through his hair. "They seem wild and wanton and she—"

"Seems exotic and lovely."

"No, it's not that. She seems very open with me, perhaps because she thinks we will wed and wants to make the best of it."

"Thinks? It's not a mere _thought_ Viserys, you and her _will_ wed." It still hurt to say it aloud.

"Not necessarily."

"Elaborate," she ordered.

"Just trust me, El," he said. "I told you I'd ask for your hand, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"And I wouldn't lie to you, so trust me."

"I'll try my best," she said, her eyes following their two dragons as they played voraciously in the sky.

Viserion screeched in happiness as Rhaegal blew small flames in his direction. Absentmindedly, Viserys' hand found Ella's and she began to lean against his tall, sinewy frame, inhaling his musky, sweat-tinted aroma. The heat had become less fierce and the sky mellowed to a soft turquoise, the sun hidden behind cotton clouds.


	21. Chapter 21

**So, we're drawing near to the end of Part Two, as they make preparations for Dorne, so I'd just like to add a few notes that will make it easier for you to understand and enjoy the story as we progress. PLEASE READ.**

 **\- Due to not having read A Dance With Dragons in it's entirety, once the royal party land in Dorne, I will probably follow the show's (Game of Thrones HBO) plot rather than what GRRM wrote, which I've already started by not including Aegon/Young Griff. Don't get too confused though as I'll also be making up quite a lot of stuff as I go on as well, since I've kept other characters alive that are dead in both book and show, such as Tywin.**

 **\- Eventually I'll have to get rid of Stannis, but I won't be killing Shireen.**

 **\- I'm going to apologise in advance for Sansa's storyline in this fic. I know a number of fans where unhapoy with her being sent to the Boltons in the show, however I'll be using that in this story as it makes it easier for her to escape and get to Jon (plus I really love seeing/reading her get her own back on Ramsay) and it ensures that she doesn't trust Littlefinger at all and her alliance/friendship with Theon will come in handy later on in the story.**

 **\- My battle tactics/strategy and understanding of war is very very limited, so please bear with me. I'm mostly going to focus on the interactions of the main characters and the politics of everything anyhow. I have enlisted the help of IAminiquity though, so she'll help make my battle/action scenes more realistic.**

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 **21st of the Second Month of 300 AC**

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

Solemnly Viserys stood in his wide, well-lit chambers, sunlight from his window grazing his face. His bed was well made and clearly hadn't been slept in—the night before, Viserys had chose to sleep in Ella's room. Not together in bed of course, Ella had put a stop to such luxuries as soon as Princess Arianne had arrived. The two had been conversing well into the night, and eventually, Ella had drifted into unconsciousness, leaving Viserys to blearily follow her lead in the chair by her bed. Of course, he had woken well before her. He didn't know if it was the lingering effects of once being a Westerosi highborn lady or that Ella was simply a deep sleeper, that made the maid sleep for hours or if Viserys just rose far too early. _Dany always japed that I rose with the sun. Mayhaps she was right._

His sister had also joked that she'd never met anyone who could scowl half so well as him, either. Viserys was certain that he was scowling pretty well right now, as he glared upon the Tyrell seal adorning the parchment. The letter was clearly meant for Ella, and under normal circumstances Viserys' would've had it promptly returned to her. Yet now, he debated with himself tirelessly whether to open it or not. Ever since the big reveal that Ella was the eldest daughter of one of Westeros' richest and most powerful House's, he'd been primarily focused on the fact that her refusal of his hand had not been due to her mot having suitable origins and actually because of her lack of love for him. Or more accurately, for the crown. But what Viserys had failed to notice was that Ella spoke of her family none and no longer entertained him or Dany with tales of the beautiful Highgarden. Based of off what she'd told them before, Ella was quite fond of her home, despite having fled it.

Unlike Daenerys, Viserys had never been too curious about Ella's life before them. He had only wanted to confirm he had no rivals for her devotion and affection, and once he had, his intrigue had been sated. But now he knew who she was, where she came from, and subsequently knew _her_ , much better than he thought he had, Viserys was fervently interested in how close exactly, Ella was to her former family. _Previous family? They haven't ceased to be related, just because Dany and I are in the picture. They are still her family. Bonded by blood._ And this letter, sealed with the stamp that only a Tyrell would have access to, held the answers to all Viserys' questions. Regretting it almost as soon as it happened, he opened the letter and began to read.

 _Lady Ella Tyrell,_

 _How wondrous it is to read such kind words from you, sweet sister. I was unsure of how to address this correspondence, since I am unaware of whether you still acknowledge House Tyrell as yours. I do hope so, sister, for we still love you, even if you have shed the name and behaviours of, Lady Carmel Tyrell._

 _I was warmed beyond belief to find that you still trust me to lend you courage and support in your times of need, as you put it. I have yet to turn away any one of my siblings when they seek my help, and vow never to. You may have disliked my position as the heir, for it took away from our time together, yet it was during those lessons that I learned the true value of family, and learnt that once our father passes, it will be down to me to keep the name Tyrell in high esteem and the members of that House, whether they be wed or knighted, safe, secure and happy and as one. We have all feared what you have essentially confirmed; that these Targaryens are now your family, and if rumours prove true, a dragonrider as well. And our Margaery sensed the affections you might hold for His Grace years ago, even when I refused to heed them and stuck my head in the sand. It seems the women of our family will always be twice as astute and perceptive than the men could ever hope to be._

 _But I digress sister, for you wrote to me for help and help I should provide. Fear not, you will receive only the warmest welcome from us in Highgarden. None shall scorn you and I shall ensure that none will have any misinterpretations of who you are now. The love you speak of that you wish for all our siblings to share, shall come to pass. A week barely goes by that Garlan doesn't speak fondly of you, and Margaery and I are already smitten. Loras is a passionate lad, and will love you fiercely once he comes to know you. Even your Targaryens shall be welcomed into the fold—Margaery will love another young lady for company, and once the years pass, His Grace and I will be good-brothers via the lovely Daenerys._

 _I know you fear for what will happen now that Princess Arianne has made her way to Slaver's Bay, yet I urge you sister, to fear no more. You don't love the king, you love the man. When he comes to Westeros, man he will be no more and your love for him will be best left in Essos where it was borne. Callous I may sound, but sometimes, we must be cruel to be kind and that is what I aim to do as I write these words._

 _Leave your love for him in Essos._

 _Yours, Will._

 _P.S. You were always the smartest of us, Ella._

Viserys did not know how to feel. Minutes ran past him as he stood, lifelessly, the letter balancing lightly in his palm. The urge to destroy the letter consumed him for a while, but he chose to fight it, to sift deeper into his feelings. He knew he wasn't truly angry. _Only a fool became enraged at the truth. I am sad_ , he realised, as a daunting feeling of emptiness filled him. He could hear his heart beating loudly, awkwardly, in his chest. He wished, somehow, that he could rip it out, and give it to Ella to keep for eternity. So there would be no doubt as to who his love truly belonged to. _Though it seems as if her heart belongs to countless others. Margaery and I are already smitten._ It stung to read just how close Ella's family were, how willing and eager they were to have her as one of them once more, and how easily it would be for Ella to slip back into her place at Highgarden and forget him and everything they'd shared. _Leave your love for him in Essos,_ her brother had instructed her, and Viserys was frightened that that's exactly what she would do, leaving him alone on the Iron Throne with only Arianne Martell for company.

 _Ella wouldn't do that to me,_ his mind protested weakly. _Ella wouldn't leave me._ If he wanted, Viserys could probably talk her into staying with him forever. Ella had always spoke of her family forcing her into a marriage or the situation presenting itself with no other way out, but Viserys knew if he truly wanted, he could have her by his side for as long as he needed. _I could name her my personal advisor._ But even in the depths of his sadness, Viserys recognised what a lonely life that might entail for Ella— _no husband, no children, nothing but me, and even then, only in the days. I couldn't dishonour her or Arianne that way._ _Unless her father allows me to cancel our betrothal._ Viserys still held hope that Doran might spare him some pity in allowing Ella to take Arianne's place, but after receiving no reply and growing friendlier and friendlier with the princess, the king suspected he might have to resign himself to a fate with a Dornish queen. Like his brother before him.

"Vis?" Ella's timid voice startled him. Not only was it scarily coincidental that after he'd spent so long with her on his mind she suddenly appeared, but also because Ella had refused to enter his chambers ever since his future wife had shown up. For a moment, he was struck by how beautiful she looked in the moment. Nothing but pure honesty on her face, her lips slightly parted, her dark hair still ruffled. _Another man shall soon come to stroke that hair._

"Carmella," he snapped, without thinking. Then, when her face crumpled slightly, "sorry. You scared me, is all."

She grinned, but the king sensed it was forced. "A king shouldn't scare so easily."

Feeling rather uncomfortable himself, Viserys shuffled his feet, forgetting the letter in his hand. "Was there something you wanted, Ella?"

For some reason, she looked hurt. "You left me," she said. Then added, "this morning. I woke and you weren't there."

"I had matter to attend to," he replied.

"Oh really," she said sarcastically. "Like what? Appreciating the lovely view?" She gestured to his window.

"And if I was? Are such activities barred from me?"

The tension in the room was palpable. Thankfully, Ella did not continue with the not-so-subtle digs they were giving to each other, and instead let her gaze drift to the parchment almost floating Viserys' hand. "Is that perhaps the important matter you needed to attend to?"

Suddenly, Viserys remembered the letter in his grasp, and hid it behind his back instinctively, then scolded himself for such a childish motion. Ella was unimpressed and slightly hurt, by the looks of her face. Viserys froze—clueless on how to proceed. He had initially planned to rid himself and Ella of her brother's words with the help of Rhaegal.

"If you didn't want me to see—" She began.

"No," he said.

"No?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Ella," he admitted.

"I thought. . ." Her voice trailed off. "Never mind, then. I'll leave you to it," and just as she turned to leave, a sudden gust of honesty overcame Viserys who stretched out the hand with the letter in it, hoping that for once Ella might betray her inquisitive nature and choose not to read it. Of course, she did not, and of course, she recognised her brother's hand and looked back at Viserys with accusing eyes. _So blue,_ he thought. _Another man shall stare into them as they make love._ These little realisations were hurting him more than words could aptly describe and against his logical thinking, he prayed for Doran to accept his request.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out in response to her cold, stony, silence.

She didn't answer him and instead read the letter. It took her longer than Viserys would have thought and so he assumed she had chosen to read it more than once. When Ella looked back up at her him, her eyes were swimming in tears. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," she stated. "But it's as if that's your sole aim."

"T'is not," he said simply.

"Why then? Why hide such a thing? My own brother's comfort for me?"

"I did not hide it, I just gave it to you."

"After deliberating on it for hours, it seems," she retorted.

Viserys remained wordless, infuriating the woman further. "Answer me, Viserys!" Ella yelled.

Viserys was speechless. Not only because he truly did not know how to answer her accusations without causing them both a great deal of pain, but because he'd never seen his Ella like this. Wild and uninhibited and. . . Free. Ella had always been stoic and collected and graceful and calculating, it was Viserys who oft lost his temper. Fleetingly, he wondered if this is how she'd been before she left her home. "I didn't want you to read it," he admitted quietly.

Ella softened immediatley. "Why?"

"Because I thought the letter troublesome," he eventually said.

" _Troublesome?_ Is that the best excuse you could muster?"

"Lord Willas spoke of things we've long put to rest."

"My _brother_ ," she corrected. "Offered me advice that _I_ asked him for. Hence why the letter was addressed to _me_ and not _you_. And I don't know whose flagon of wine you've been sipping, but the matters Will spoke of have certainly not been _put to rest_ —just avoided ever since your little princess came to town."

That made Viserys angry. _Her jealousy has finally reached my limits._ "The only two princesses I would ever claim as my own both bare the name Targaryen."

"As will this one in a few moons," she quipped.

"This isn't about Arianne."

"Is it not?" She goaded. "Then what is it about, then? You want to have us both, is that it? The lovely Queen Arianne and one your arm and me in the shadows, counselling and comforting you? Utterly in love with you?"

"Of course not."

His short replies seemed to be infuriating Ella, and Viserys couldn't help but be slightly aroused at the sight of such passion in her. "Good, because that is not what will happen," and in an instant, Ella was herself again, cold and distant. "I'm going to heed my brother's advice, and leave anything borne in Essos, _in_ Essos where it belongs."

Before Viserys had chance to answer, Princess Arianne, one of the men her father had sent with her, and Ser Barristan entered the room. Despite her previous anger, Ella blushed profusely. "Your Grace?" Arianne questioned unsurely. "What is going on here?" Her eyes looked slightly hurt, and Viserys internally groaned.

"Nothing," Ella supplied. "I'm finished." Viserys heard the unspoken, _so are we._

And then she left, and Viserys felt his heart wither inside him. He wondered if that was how Ella had felt all those months ago when he'd walked out on her, or even when she'd had to refuse his advances despite loving him, and then he decided that if it was, he had a whole newfound respect for her. Because it hurt like hell. _Like fucking seven hells._ But he knew he had needed to let her go. _So she can come back to me._

 **Queen Margaery**

Today was the day. Olenna had already had all of Margaery's dresses, silks, cousins and anything else of importance sent back to the Reach and just a few days before, her beloved King Joffrey had pardoned Loras from his vows on account of being 'unequipped to properly defend the king'. Margaery had made sure to beg for Loras to be allowed to remain part of the Kingsguard and had taken note of Cersei's smug grin when her son insisted that a member of the Kingsguard must be at his prime and not be suffering from crippling leg injury. _What a stupid woman, anyone with a smidgen of wisdom would see the benefits of keeping the son of Mace Tyrell as an unofficial hostage, even Tywin had only agreed to it because he hoped the precedent would allow the Kinglsayer to be excused from his vows as well._ But Margaery had quickly learnt that Cersei held no wisdom, only misplaced anger and a very inflated sense of importance. _Crippling leg injury, my arse,_ Margaery thought happily. The only thing Loras suffered from was a bruised ego because Olenna has forced him to walk with a cane in front of everyone at court. And now, he was safely riding back to Highgarden, his cane abandoned in some crook or nanny. It had taken weeks, but it was finally time for Queen Margaery to make her great departure from King's Landing, and head from Dorne, where she'd finally be reunited with her sister. And surprisingly, she'd be making it with Tyrion Lannister of all people.

She was currently stood somewhere dark and hidden, not too far from Flea's Bottom. _That entire street needs washing,_ Margaery sniffed, _it smells entirely awful._ Varys was tittering away, giving Tyrion instructions. Margaery had been listening at first, but soon became bored. Her grandmother had assured her she could trust Tyrion and that Varys would not harm her and risk angering House Tyrell. Margaery had initially wanted to leave with Loras, but Olenna had insisted that was too soon. So Margaery had had to wait, suffer Cersei's presence, Joffrey's groping and Sansa's clear misery. _At least I righted that wrong before I left._

 _"You **must** free her," Margaery had urged Varys. "Before I leave."_

 _"How would you suggest I do so?"_

 _"Spirit her away in the night. Lord Tyrion will not stop you. Take her away from here, Varys."_

 _"And send her **where** , Your Grace?"_

 _Distantly, Margaery remembered the war raging in the North against the Boltons, and for a scary moment, thought there was nowhere for Sansa to go. "To the Watch," she said. "To her brother, he's at the Watch."_

 _"The Night's Watch is for men alone, my queen, and once he took his vows, Jon Snow ceased from being Lady Sansa's relation in any form."_

 _"I have asked once already, my lord, and the next time, I will demand, and you would not do to refuse me. Else my sister will have words with the king. The **true** king."_

 _Varys tittered._

 _"Send her to the Watch."_

 _Margaery would always have a soft spot in her heart for the poor Sansa Stark._

~x~

"You must be wondering why I so eagerly left my family to join the Targaryen cause," Tyrion Lannister eventually said.

He and Margaery were riding in a wheelhouse behind some of her father's riders. They were still some days from Highgarden and all too close to the Red Keep for Margaery to be wondering about anything but Lord Tywin's wrath when he discovered his son, Sansa _and_ Margaery all missing.

"I wasn't, actually."

"Of course," he took a long swig of wine from his flask. "You're worrying about my father."

"Aren't you?"

"I can't say that I am," yet Margaery saw the flicker of fear in his mismatched eyes. "Cersei will be enraged of course, and when she is angry, she is stupid. Stupid enough to override any of my father's logical decisions."

Margaery had to agree. "My House have officially declared for the Targaryens, Sansa has fled her captors and Varys is working for Varys. What _is_ your excuse for leaving?"

It seemed to Margaery as if Tyrion had longed to tell this story for a while. "Because my father hates me and when he meets his end, Jaime will refuse to take the Rock and Cersei will kill me so she can have it."

"That's quite the assumption. Who's to say Cersei would even want Casterly Rock? She essentially has the Iron Throne, now."

"Cersei wants power," Tyrion informed her. "She wants the Iron Throne, she wants Casterly Rock, she wants all of bloody Westeros to kneel before her. But most of all, she wants me dead and has done my entire life."

The former queen had no decent response and so only offered Tyrion a sympathetic smile. "Varys left the bones of some dwarf in my bed. I believe he wanted to frame my dear wife for the crime," he took another drink from his flask. "But soon abandoned that plan. He has some whore all ready to make a teary confession to the deed on the morn. Poor girl."

Margaery gasped at the plans Varys had initially made for her friend. "And what of Sansa?"

"Sansa? Such a pretty, polite little thing. Though I fear she has hardened beneath her dutiful mask. Perhaps a few more years might've seen her actually kill me and burn my body."

Margaery shook her head. "Did Varys happen to tell you where Sansa is now?" She had to make sure Sansa was safe.

"On her way to the North. But we suspect Littlefinger's absconded with her."

" _What?_ "

Tyrion wore an amused smile. "He didn't tell you? Of course not, Varys has a habit of doing that. Not telling people things. Oh well. I doubt any serious harm should befall her, Littlefinger's been infatuated with her mother his entire life and interested in her since she arrived at the Red Keep."

"He's a slimy whoremonger!" Margaery protested. "He'll defile her!"

"He won't," Tyrion said. "I took you for a clever girl, my lady," he tutted at her. "Know your enemies. Baelish is similar to my sweet sister, in that his goal is power. Ultimate power. Only, he's miles smarter than the Queen Mother and endlessly patient. If he has Sansa Stark in his custody—the current heir to Winterfell, the rightful Wardeness of the North, do you really believe he'll waste time defiling her?" Tyrion laughed. "He's going to use her as my father had planned to, and gain the North. He rules the Vale now, I believe, and Cersei gave him Harrenhall, the fool, he'll likely wed her, or ally with the Boltons and give her to Roose or his son."

Margaery had to admit that Tyrion was very, very, intelligent, and after spending a lifetime being ignored or hated, he'd learned to read people well in order to protect himself from them. _And very chatty when drunk,_ she noted.

"I hope you're wrong," Margaery said. "I hope she reaches the Wall and finds peace with her brother."

"I hope so too," Tyrion said earnestly.

"What will happen to the whore?" Margaery asked after a while.

"I don't believe I understand your question."

"I mean, will your father believe her confession and kill her?"

"I imagine," Tyrion started, quietly. "That she'll go wherever whores go."


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for everyone's womderful reviews! You might not believe but they really do brighten my day and motivate me to keep writing, as you can probably tell, since I think I've been updating fairly quickly of late. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, adding to your favourites or all four!**

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 **10th of the Third Month 300 AC**

 **Lord Varys**

Cersei was of three of the most important people in King's Landing, missing, had quite literally set the Dowager Queen aflame. Varys had to try rather hard to keep his amused smirk from appearing. Even Tywin was angry and barked his orders a lot more angrily than he usually would. Olenna Tyrell's cursively written letter detailing that House Tyrell had defected from their allegiance with House Lannister and have now chosen to remain neutral, was gripped tightly in the Lord of Casterly Rock's hand. Varys had to mentally applaud the Queen of Thornes on her cunning. He hadn't thought she had it in her to be so discreet. Her scheme to have Loras dismissed from the Kingsguard was the feat that Varys found particularly admirable. _And she even waited a few weeks for news to spread of his departure._ The ladies of King's Landing were jolly for days after learning Loras was now free to wed again. There's no chance of Cersei managing to claim that Loras deserted his vows. The entire city as well as all the relevant lords had either seen or read of Ser Loras' dismissal.

"This must be answered _fiercely_ ," Cersei banged the table, her crown wobbling on her head. Varys saw her uncle Kevan shake his head, in disappointment. "It is the Imp's fault! He whispered lies into Olenna's ear to make her defy us!"

"Quiet woman," Tywin snapped irritably. "Tyrion is dead." Tywin didn't look upset or sad, simply annoyed, as if it was Tyrion's fault for getting himself murdered.

" _Please_ ," Cersei scoffed. "That skeleton could belong to anyone. He's much to conniving to get himself murdered in his own bed."

"We have a confession," Kevan pointed out.

"Which further consolidates my point," Cersei said. "Who confesses to such a crime? No-one, that's who. I'm telling you all, my brother still lives and he's lurking somewhere ready to strike against us!"

"Enough," Tywin ordered. "Whether Tyrion is really alive or not, is irrelevant. We don't have him and the realm will believe he has perished, meaning Sansa Stark is now a widow and free to wed again, and knowing my blasted son, she carries no lions in her womb."

"And _she_ is gone too," Kevan added. "Most likely back to the North, to wed again."

"Sansa Stark is a pretty fool. She'll be raped bloody before getting murdered on the kingsroad," Cersei said derisively. "We need the Lady Margaery back! She may carry my son's child and she deserted her king! She must be punished."

"Lady Margaery's family is much too powerful for us to punish her, and we rely far too much on them to even argue their departure," Kevan said. "His Grace will simply have to find a new wife and we'll deal with his former queen in the coming war Lady Olenna speaks of."

"I believe Sansa Stark may actually be with the former Queen," Varys saw his opportunity. "She and Lady Margaery shared a close friendship and she actually proposed a union between Sansa and her brother, Lord Willas."

"I heard of that," Tywin said between gritted teeth. "It is why I had her wed Tyrion in the first place."

"The presumptuous little wench." Cersei had truly despised Queen Margaery, and even Varys had to wonder why, exactly. Joffrey had favoured his little wife, granted, but he had still been his mother's creation in truth, and had let her rule while he doled out petty punishments to minor lords and hedge knights.

"Enough," Tywin repeated, his voice hard and loud, even Cersei snapped her lips shut. "I need Sansa Stark back in the Red Keep before the end of the week," he growled. "Send five hundred men out to look for her, immediately."

"Where, my lord?" Pycelle inquired weakly.

"In the Reach, obviously and a fraction up and down the kingsroad."

At that, most of the men around the table got up and left, Pycelle's chains could be heard ringing. Varys lingered in the hall as he waited for Cersei to be dismissed by her father. As expected, she departed the hall, anger sketched clearly across her face. At the sight of Varys, her lips curled. "What do you want?"

"I have another theory on the whereabouts of Lady Sansa, Your Grace," he replied.

This caught the queen's attention. "Oh?"

"I feared sharing it in the presence of the king's other counsel men. Sansa Stark is a very valuable prize, by capturing her one essentially has governance in the North."

"Yes, yes, I know," Cersei said, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of knowing something her father didn't. "Where is she?"

"I believe she fled to the Vale, Your Grace, to Lady Arryn, her mother's own sister."

"Of course!" The queen exclaimed, and then her eyes widened as if in realisation and Varys knew she'd connected the dots and remembered who currently lived in the Vale. "Thank you, my lord." Cersei regained her grace, nodding respectfully towards the eunuch. "Your help in these matters and your discretion, will be rewarded."

"The only reward I desire is the safety of the realm,"'Varys tittered.

This seemed to annoy the queen, who simply nodded again before taking her leave.

Varys returned to his chambers feeling quite triumphant. He already had his birds tailing the Queen Mother, who was most likely speaking with her brother, Ser Jaime, ordering him to take the Lannister forces to the Vale in search of Sansa Stark. Varys assumed Littlefinger would capture the girl on her travels to the Wall, and also assumed that he wouldn't be so foolish as to hide her in the home of one of her most powerful relatives. He was sure Sansa Stark was on her way to the Boltons, whom Baelish would no doubt trade her with. He did feel some sympathy for the troubles the Northern maid would no doubt soon face, but it couldn't be helped, Varys' main priorities laid with the dragon king on his way to Pentos and then to Dorne. _With their dragons._ That reminded him to investigate into the rumours circling regarding the pyromancers of Aerys' reign. _We can't very well have the entire city combusting when those dragons come._

 **1st of the Third Month of 300 AC**

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

Atop his horse, gifted to him by the late Khal Drogo, Viserys said his last goodbyes to his Dothraki horde. _The first people I ever led. The first people who chose me to lead them._ He had wanted to bring them to Westeros, he truly had, but with the lack of ships and the large numbers of the Golden Company, they'd unfortunately been the ones elected to stay behind. S _tay behind and keep my cities safe,_ he'd ordered them. _Fight against the slave masters, and make Dragon's Bay your own._ And he sensed that they would. Daenerys had argued that their nomadic nature would make it hard for them to stay in one place, but Viserys saw the determination in their eyes and heard the excitement of the ranks, from those who were eager to start this new adventure in a home they could call their own. Of course, he'd left a few hundred Unsullied soldiers behind and regretfully, Missandei as well, one of the few people he truly trusted to keep the slaves out of their chains and send him news on his cities.

 _I almost feel sad saying goodbye._

Dragon's Bay had been his first home in a long while. He'd been respected and admired and even loved by a few, and most of all, he'd been happy and safe. There were no hired knives coming for him, no taunts and mockery. He'd been the king.

Turning his horse to make the long trip back to Pentos for his daughter, Viserys noticed Dany and Ser Barristan riding ahead, laughing and chatting happily, as if they'd known each other for years rather than weeks. Like Ser Jorah, the knight had quickly become one of the family in his stay and had earned the trust of both Targaryen siblings by repeatedly saving Dany's life whenever she ventured to far and giving honest counsel to Viserys, and Barristan had even secured the grudging respect of Ella, despite her claiming otherwise.

 _Ella._

They hadn't spoken of the encounter in his chambers weeks ago. It wasn't like their other arguments, Ella treated it as if they hadn't both been angry and upset, but as if they'd both come to the mutual agreement that they were no longer in love. He hated it. He wanted Ella to cry over him, to ignore him, to shout at him even, anything that showed she cared, but Ella went about things as if nothing had changed. She teased him in a friendly manner, counselled him at their meeting, and entertained his requests for strolls together. But she didn't seek him out unnecessarily, she never visited his chambers again, she didn't speak of him to Daenerys even and spent most of her time with Viserion and Rhaegal, the orphan Corman or Ser Jorah, once more. He hated it, and he knew it was because of that damned letter that she'd chosen to behave like this. _Her brother is a fool! You cannot simply leave one's love behind as if it were a pair of breeches._ But he said nothing on the matter, and stuck to his decision that he must let her go in order for her to come back to him off her own accord.

Princess Arianne had been another matter entirely. Upon finding Viserys alone with Ella she'd truly withdrawn into herself, which scared the king, for he had no idea what she might do in her anger or hurt. Many times, he tried to coax her teasing nature, but only reached a polite wall. She spent nearly all her time with her cousins, who had roamed about the palace in Mereen, whispering to each other, eyes cast downwards. It put Viserys on edge. The only time she'd brought her walls down around him, had been the day after the incident when she asked him, point blank, if he loved Ella.

"For years," he'd told her, sadly.

 **3rd of the Fourth Month of 300 AC**

 **Ella of Westeros**

Ella learnt two new things sailing from Mereen to Pentos. First, she was not a good sailor, and second, Willas had been wrong, she couldn't just stop loving Viserys, even if it was the _man_ she loved, the man who had already made his transformation into the king. _Bloody hell, I love them both._ For a month, she'd been stuck on the same ship as the king and his betrothed. Watching them walk about together, made her more nauseous than the infernal swaying of the ship. Her only comfort had been watching Viserion grow larger in the open air, as he fed on Seven knows what on his disappearances throughout the journey. That and the little orphan, Corman, who'd become her unofficial page or squire or whatever the correct term was. He didn't leave her side, and kept her spirits up on the days she simply wanted to stay in bed. Despite his illiteracy, the boy was quite perceptive and commented more than once on the animosity between Ella and Viserys.

 _"But you're in love, m'lady!"_

 _"That's not how it works, Corman."_

 _"How else is it meant to work, m'lady? My father always told me to marry for love and nothing else, else you'll end up 'ating each other. An' he would know, he despised my mother."_

Ella had just chuckled at that.

But now she was back on land in the familiar manse she'd lived in little over a year ago. It felt strange being back, especially as she walked past so many bedslaves, knowing that one of them had borne Viserys' child. And because Illyrio now knew who she really was, and was evidently, not very happy about it. _At least he still calls me Lady Ella. I couldn't stand having him call my old name all the time. Ah, at least I am closer to my home._ And as the days went by, Ella began thinking of Westeros as her home more and more, longing to hug her brothers again, and grow close to her sister. It seemed, that the more comfortable she became with herself, the less she feared the change of returning home. _Essos is not who I am,_ she'd thought on one of the rare quiet nights on the ship, _I am who I am, regardless of what continent I live on._

"Ella," Dany's breathless voice shocked her from her daydreams. "Ella, come!"

Viserys had only allowed himself and Daenerys to see the child when they'd first arrived. It had stung some, but Ella had understood his decision and was happy that Arianne was not allowed to see the child either. It had been a day now, and Ella had been waiting patiently in her old room for the summons that they were to leave and sail for Dorne, at last. She was glad to see Dany, for besides Ser Jorah, she hadn't seen a friendly face in a while.

Ella stood, her knees feeling weak. "The child?"

"Healthy and gorgeous," Dany confirmed. "And most definitely a dragon. She looks just like him." Without realising, tears gathered in Ella's eyes. She'd been the first to learn of the babe and the first to love her. Which she did, despite everything that had occurred in the time since Ella first received Illyrio's letter, Ella loved the child fiercely.

"Let's go then," Ella said eagerly.

~x~

The little girl gurgled happily in her father's arm, her cheeks pink from the heat and her mouth opened wide, showcasing her one budding tooth. She wore white silks that her father had ordered for her. Her light almost white hair had grown and curled around her delicate ears. Ella's heart swelled with love. _By the seven, she's beautiful, and Dany was right, she looks just like him._ Even if Ella hadn't been the sort who loved every child no matter whose they were, it would have been impossible for her to hate anyone who favoured Viserys so.

"She should have Viserion," Ella said into the silence.

"Viserion's yours," Dany said, her brother nodding agreement, though not taking his eyes off his daughter. "Our dragons will procreate and she'll have her pick of those ones."

Ella didn't argue, not wanting to ruin the priceless moment. "She really is a beauty."

"Isn't she?" Viserys sighed lovingly.

"I must say," Ella smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen you quite like this."

"I do agree," Dany chimed in. "Completely in love."

"Then the both of you haven't been looking for very long, then," he replied, sharing a very tender look with Ella, who flushed.

"May I—" Ella began, then stopped, realising that her request was far too invasive.

But Viserys only smiled at her, handing over the gurgling babe. Ella drew the child into her arms and cradled her, singing a soft tune she remembered from her own childhood. _Mother must have sang to me,_ she thought. "What's that tune?" Dany asked.

Ella shrugged. "It has a sweet melody."

"It does," Dany agreed, humming along.

"What have you decided to name her?" Ella asked, completely lost in the babe's eyes. So beautiful.

"Rhaena," Viserys told her.

"For our brother and mother," Daenerys added.

"Hello little Rhaena," Ella smiled down at her, nuzzling their noses.

And in the moment, all the fights and arguments and Viserys' and Ella's love affair were forgotten and would stay forgotten as Viserys wrapped an arm around Ella's waist and they both beamed down lovingly at Rhaena.

"Okay, my turn now," Dany announced, her hands outstretched.

Viserys and Ella laughed.

 **Princess Arianne Martell**

A lone tear slid down the princess' hair as she hastily ran from the room she'd been spying on. Disgruntled at not being allowed to see Viserys' bastard upon arrival, Arianne and her cousin Tyene had found the room where the child was being kept and spied on it at intervals throughout the day. Arianne thought the baby was rather cute, if a little small, but looked much too similar to her father to be allowed to stay at court. _My own trueborn children will not favour him so, what with my Dornish looks. They will all view her as the true dragon._ Initially, the Dornish woman had been open to the idea of having the child raised alongside her future siblings, but after seeing her she had already started composing the speech she would use to convince the king to leave his bastard in Highgarden with Daenerys and her future husband. _I was even going to argue that Lady Ella might even be there while she grows, until she weds and leaves._ But her arguments had been rendered redundant the following day, when she spied Daenerys leading Lady Ella into the room she'd been forbidden from. _Tyene was right._ And then when she'd seen how happily he placed his child in Ella's arms, and wrapped his arm around her waist as if the two of them had created the child. _I could never love my husband's bastard so._

"I told you," Tyene chirped, causing Nymeria to pinch her sister. "What? I did."

"Whether you were right, she still marries him," Obara said. "It is a matter of politics not love."

Arianne bit her lip. _And I liked him too! I really did._ Viserys had been nothing but kind and charming with her and she thought she'd been the same. _I might've treated his Lady Ella less favourably than I should've, but what can he expect? He is besotted with her._ She'd even been more than willing to let his bastard live with them in the Red Keep, before she'd seen the child, only to keep him happy. _I would've made him a good wife!_ But that no longer mattered. Viserys could not betray his feelings any more than Arianne could stand to remain betrothed to him. _He will never stop loving her, and I won't be married to a man in love with someone else._

"I won't marry him."

Her cousins stared at her, open-mouthed. "You can't let Ella stop you from fulfilling his promise. This is bigger than his love for her," Nymeria protested.

"No, it's not. You should see them, Nym, he loves her. Truly loves her."

Nymeria looked conflicted. Arianne knew that Nymeria was oddly very fond of Lady Ella, ever since that stupid duel. "Has she said anything to you?" Tyene asked.

"No, no. Though I wish she would, it would make it easier to take him from her. But she'd been perfectly respectable," Arianne did not speak of the incident of finding Ella in the king's chambers.

"What will your father say?"

This made Arianne laugh. "Weeks ago, he sent me a letter."

"Truly?"

"Yes. He says that the king wrote to him, asking to be relieved from his betrothal to me and offered Daenerys to Quentyn, me a place on the small council and another seat for Dorne."

"Truly?" Tyene repeated.

"Yes," Arianne snapped. "I had thought to ignore it until Tyene told me of how close he was to his Lady Ella. Father says he and Uncle Oberyn have left the choice to me."

"So you can leave him?" Nymeria sounded far too happy.

"Yes," Arianne still felt saddened by the idea, but reasoned she'd thank herself in six years when she was happily married to a man who loved her, and her only, and positively despised the future Queen Ella. "I have already written to him. I am no longer betrothed to the king."

 **Ella of Westeros**

They were preparing to leave for Dorne and Ella was feeling lighter than silk. Little Rhaena was reasonably healthy, only having one serious bout of coughs, that kisses and hugs from Daenerys had seemed to heal, and Ella felt strangely peaceful knowing she'd be a part of the babe's life, that Viserys would _let_ her be a part of his daughter's life, and glad that all the trials and tribulations they'd suffered in the past would be left in the past. Even the fact that Arianne was growing colder and colder to her by the day couldn't squash Ella's mood, or Illyrio's insufferable presence.

A smile plastered on her face, Ella entered baby Rhaena's room, where she was currently being fed by the wetnurse Illyrio had provided, who also happened to be Rhaena's mother's cousin. Viserys had tasked her to retrieve Rhaena and take her to the ship they'd be travelling on.

She was shocked to hear the nurse gasp as she entered. "Hello, I'm here for—"

"No," the woman stated.

"Excuse me?" Ella said.

"You can't take her! _He_ can't take her!" She protested frenzied.

"He happens to be her father," Ella said frostily. "Enough of the theatrics and hand me the child."

At sight of Ella approaching her, the wetnurse clutched the suckling babe closer to her teats, tears beginning to stream down her face. " _Please_ , miss, don't take her. She is my _niece_ , I beg you!"

Some sympathy nagged at Ella's chest. "She'll be well cared for in Westeros."

"She needs her _mother_ ," the woman cried. "She needs me to tell her of her mother! He will raise her with no inkling of my sweat Sara!"

Ella assumed Sara was Rhaena's biological mother and tried fruitlessly to think of something appropriate to say, but nothing came to mind. _She doesn't need her mother? Certainly not._ "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Let me come with you then," she pleaded, her eyes completely red and swollen. "She still needs a wetnurse." Ella had to agree; Rhaena was a small and sickly child and picked up every passing ailment, she needed at least another year of feeding from a woman's breasts.

"I will ask," Ella replied carefully. "We may send for you once she has settled," she added, biting her lip at the lie.

The Essosi woman just shook her head in denial and anguish, rocking the sleeping Rhaena in her arms. Ella stood patiently, waiting for the woman's grief to pass over. She understood the pain that Viserys was causing by taking Rhaena away and not even allowing the wetnurse who also happened to be her aunt come along. _I would be the same if it were Rhaego._ However, when the crying woman made no outwards movement to hand Rhaena over to Ella, she became impatient.

Reaching her arms out, Ella said, "You need to give her to me."

Finally, the woman obliged. "Tell her of me," she begged. "Tell her I wanted her, please tell her I love her!"

Unsure of how Viserys would react to such a thing, Ella instead answered, "She will have a family, I promise you. She won't want for anything—not love or food or money or clothes, I vow."

"You must do this! For my Lorella, you must do this!"

"Lorella?"

"T'was the name my Sara gave her before the life passed from her body," the woman sobbed. "Baby Lorella."

 _Lorella,_ Ella mused thoughtfully. Lorella of Pentos— _maybe I shall tell Rhaena of her when she becomes a woman grown._


	23. Chapter 23

**15th of the Fourth Month of 300 AC**

 **Lady Ella Tyrell**

The sun in Dorne was no hotter than that of Essos, yet to Ella—or Lady Ella Tyrell, as she'd officially styled herself as—it seemed much fiercer, much like her Dornish companions. Every time she gazed up at it, burning the sky mercilessly, she couldn't help but think of House Martell's words: _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken,_ and thought of how they'd been the only House to resist Aegon's forces in the first conquest. _Rather fortunate then, that we have them as allies this time around._ Ella glanced at Arianne, who rode ahead of her with Viserys and her Uncle Oberyn who'd met them at the Stepstones, and wondered if they were truly allies or if Dorne simply used Viserys to exact their twenty year old vendetta against the Lannisters. _Either way,_ Ella reminded herself, _we have their swords, and that's what's most important as of now._

Daenerys rattled far behind Viserys' 14,000 large host, in the only wheelhouse they had, most likely rocking Rhaena at her breast. Ella had been offered a seat inside the wheelhouse as well, but needing some time alone to think Ella chose to ride by herself and had sent Ser Jorah and Corman ahead. _Such a sweet boy_ , she thought, _he needs a friend. One other than me._ Normally she tolerated, or even enjoyed the little orphan's presence, but after Prince Oberyn had informed them that Mace Tyrell, along with his wife, mother and children, waited at Sunspear for the Lady Ella, with some 10,000 Reachmen in and about the city, Ella couldn't find any patience in her to humour Corman today. She hadn't seen her family in years, and now she was about to be presented to them as King Viserys' most closest and trusted advisor. She hadn't even replied to Willas' last letter, telling her to leave her love for Viserys in Essos—which she'd unsuccessfully tried to do—and wondered how her family would react to the Targaryen. To Ella, he would always be Viserys, her best friend, love of her life, the eye-roll inducing boy who chased her through a field of flowers once. But to the rest of the world, he would be king. _Or claimant for the meantime. A dragon rider. Aegon the Conquerer come again._ Ella really hoped that her grandmother approved.

 _Not that there's anything to approve of, of course, Viserys and the princess are to wed._

~x~

After a few more hours of galloping, Ella and the host finally arrived at the Old Palace of Sunspear, where her family awaited her. The Spear Tower rose high into the sky, and Ella briefly pondered on how far up her chambers would be. Harry Strikland, his fellow commanders and generals and the common-tongue speaking Unsullied would be given shelter inside the Old Palace, while the rest of Viserys' men rested in camps around the magnificent castle. Obara, who was already done with the royal party had long ago rode off towards the Shadow City to her favourite tavern, leaving Ella with only a jut of the chin and a sharp goodbye, while her two other sisters stood by their father.

~x~

Ella stood with Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah, with Corman far behind her amongst the unsociable Unsullied. Daenerys had wanted to stand with Ella, but Princess Arianne decreed that royalty must stand together, causing Dany to scowl and Viserys to send her a sharp look. Ella wondered what the princess was up to, as as soon as she step foot in her ancestral home, her tongue had loosened up much and her posture much more erect. _It must be for her father._ As if on cue, Prince Doran entered, his brother walking with him, and a large dark man behind a him and—

Her family.

Ella recognised her eldest brother instantly, his weary smile and dusty brown eyes and the slight limp he walked with due to the fall he'd suffered as a child. _That was horrible, Father locked me and Garlan in our rooms for weeks_ —and then he was smiling at her. Her Willas, grinning at her in that knowing way she hadn't realised she'd missed, and then she couldn't help herself. Ella launched herself into Willas' arms, and he was only just able to withstand her force.

"Welcome home, little sister," he whispered into her ear.

 **King Viserys III**

Watching his Ella leap into some lords arms— _not some lord, her brother_ —had left a sour taste in his mouth and a burning rage in his chest. Seeking some outlet for his anger, he'd abruptly grabbed Dany's hand and squeezed hard, reminiscent of the when Daenerys' had given birth and squeezed his ten times harder. Though she whimpered some, she made no outward protest, as if understanding her brother's need for it.

The entire room stood silent and still as the Tyrell family made a show of affection that hadn't been done publicly amongst Westeros' highborn in a long time. Ella hugged Lord Willas for what felt like centuries, tears even began to glisten in the young lord's eyes before the rest of the family joined the hug. Including Ella's wrinkled old grandmother and youngest brother who she claimed she hardly knew. Viserys wanted someone to stop it, to rewind back to the time when Ella only hugged him like that. He inhaled deeply, then raised an eyebrow at Princess Arianne, subtly informing her that they needed to proceed. The Dornish woman nodded quietly and then appealed to her father.

"Well my lords, father, it seems Lady Ella has made her introduction without my help," she laughed in a sultry manner.

Lady Ella extricated herself from her brother's arm, but made no move to stand with Viserys or his men. "Prince Doran, do forgive me," she said, curtsying lowly. "It is an honour to finally see Sunspear with my own eyes."

Prince Doran nodded in her direction vaguely. "I've heard much about you."

"All favourable, I hope," Ella dimpled.

This caused a slight uplift to Prince Doran's lips. "All impressive," he replied.

Viserys saw Lady Olenna give her granddaughter a proud look, before all eyes fell on him. He strode confidently towards the Prince seated above him. _The last time, Doran,_ Viserys thought wickedly as he approached the blanketed man, his sister by his side, _this is the last time you shall sit above me._ Though he had a healthy respect for Dorne and no hatred for Princess Arianne or her family, he knew who they were and refused to trust them completely for it. _These are the selfsame ones who shot arrows into Meraxes' eye and killed my ancestor, Rhaenys, these are the ones who left me in Essos, starving and alone, waiting for me to be powerful enough to help them, waiting for the realm to be weak enough to need me._ This almost caused Viserys to growl. If one thing could be said about him, it was that he wanted the realm to prosper, to flourish with or without him. _Ella says that's what sets me apart from my sire. From Rhaegar even._ He shook the thoughts from his head, and bowed respectfully to Doran.

"All hail His Grace, Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of His Name, The Unburnt, Face of the Freed Men, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm," called his royal steward.

And immediately, everyone in the room knelt. Viserys did not turn his head to look at Ella though he ached to, just to grin at her. How many times had he imagined this scene in his dreams, how many times had Daenerys made that introduction for him on his bad days, how many times had Ella promised that all those dreams and whimsies would come to pass. _And now they have._ Doran remained upright in his chair, however, staring steadily at the king. Even Oberyn had knelt. _So it is Doran who is the true viper here, how curious._ He did nothing though, still hoping the prince would still release him from his contract with Arianne.

"Rise," Viserys ordered, wishing somehow his dragon could've fit inside the palace, to further prove his authority.

He made his long lengthy introductions and flatteries, even including that of his bastard daughter—which thanks to the liberal ways of Dorne garnered no big reaction, leaving his sister for last. Just as he'd been about to appeal to the Tyrell's, and publicly thank them for all they had done for him, Princess Arianne approached her father and placed a hand on Daenerys' arm. Viserys touched his sister instinctively, his protective urges flared.

"Father, might I also add, that in addition to being Daenerys Stormborn current heir Iron Throne, Mother of Dragons and the Unburnt, Princess Daenerys is also your future good-daughter."

Viserys felt the entire hall draw in a large breath, as he himself did the same thing. _Does this mean_ —no longer willing to stop himself, he whipped his head to face Ella and saw the same realisation on hers that was sketched across his own. _So Doran gave the decision to Arianne instead. He is a father, above all else, it seems._

"Though I was honoured and elated to be chosen as a suitable bride for His Grace," she continued in that sultry voice of hers. "I must reject his hand upon witnessing the love shared between him and another that I refuse to stand in the way of. However, as compensation, His Grace has offered his radiant sister as a bride for my brother, Prince Quentyn, and myself and another suitable candidate, a place on his small council."

She allowed the courtroom to murmur amongst themselves, and Dany to shoot him a very confused look, tinged with disappointment. Viserys searched for Quentyn and found him stood behind his uncle. The boy was short and stout, with a plain face, squashed nose, high forehead and square jaw. Certainly nothing compared to Lord Willas who Dany had initially supposed to wed, who was tall with fair hair and pretty eyes and a blood tie to Ella, which would all of course attract his sister far more than the very sensible looking Prince Quentyn. Despite his elation at being allowed to marry Ella—which hadn't even fully registered yet—he felt sorry for his sister and prayed that this Quentyn would be good to her. In the back of his mind, Viserys noted how Quentyn nor his brother Trystane had even spared a glance at the return of their sister where Willas had enveloped his own. _Dany will spark some emotion in them, I'm sure._

"But that is not all," Arianne's voice rang once more. "His Grace is most generous and has also offered a betrothal between his own future firstborn son and my future daughter."

Doran smiled and Viserys ground his teeth. _You have won this time, my prince, just this once. I will teach my son to be wary of your descendants._

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

Minutes after Prince Doran's court had been dismissed, Daenerys was rushed off by Arianne and Tyene to spend time 'acquainting' herself with her future husband. This made her dislike him all the more. _I was supposed to be Lord Willas'_ , she raged in her head, _Ella's good-sister and live in a palace in Highgarden._ When she'd laid eyes upon Ella's oldest brother, her desire to marry him had only increased. He'd looked so kind and wise and when Ella had leaped into his arms, she couldn't help but think what a wonderful father he would make, even for Rhaena, since Dany was sure she'd be tasked with raising her brother's bastard. In that moment, she forgot her grief over Drogo and could only see herself married to Willas, with Ella living not too far away. _A childish notion,_ she chided herself, _of course Vis would be conspiring to have Ella. At my expense._

Prince Quentyn was solemn. He offered Dany his arm as he led them to a solar, and made idle talk about the weather but that had been it. And then Tyene and Arianne had left them, wearing matching smirks. They had known. She wanted to be angry with them too, but found she couldn't. _Arianne let my brother and Ella be together,_ she thought, _I won't forget that._ She wondered how Ella had taken the news. _Her sister is very pretty. Her true sister._ Daenerys sighed.

"Something not to your liking, my lady?"

Daenerys turned to him, wanting only to be with Ella and her family, and meet them as she dreamed of since she was but six years old. _Rhaego was meant to be alive and well and live with me and my lord husband at Highgarden,_ she thought mournfully, _and now Rhaena will live with me and this silent boy at Sunspear under the rule of his sister._ "No. My lord."

"Please," he said in a voice that made it sound like speaking caused him pain. "Do away with such formalities. We are to be . . . Man and wife, you may call me Quentyn."

"Quentyn," the word felt odd on her tongue. He seemed disheartened that Dany didn't offer him another name to call her. She regretted it almost immediately.

"Princess, please allow me to apologise for the surprise turn of events. I had not been aware of them myself until my sister announced it moments ago."

They were in the solar now, where enough light shone for Daenerys to be able to see his face clearly. He seemed genuine and sincere and quite sorry about her being tied to him. Such a stark contrast to Drogo who had behaved as if she were the lucky one in their union, who spoke with an unchallenged authority and certainly didn't suffer from the shyness that her betrothed apparently did. _I must make the most of this,_ she chanted to herself, _when Arianne arrived and Viserys thought himself engaged to her, he entertained her well and walked and talked with her even though his heart belonged to another. I must do the same. I must treat this boy kindly, for he is to be my partner in all things and father my children._ The last word stung her to hear. With much difficulty, Daenerys stored Rhaego somewhere far in her mind, surrounded by affection and longing and banished Drogo from her head completely. _He may have loved me, yes, but he bought me nonetheless. I was his property, not his wife._ She was determined that this time around, she would be her husband's equal, not his to have. _And by the looks of Quentyn, it shouldn't be too hard. To him, I am the heir to the throne, not some silver-haired girl with pretty eyes._

"Don't apologise," she said kindly, reaching out to touch his rough, calloused hands. _He has been training for much longer than Vis._ "And call me Dany."

 **Lady Margaery Tyrell**

Her sister smelt of sunny skies, fresh fruit and hope.

~x~

Prince Oberyn and one of his bastards had shown the Tyrell's to their respective rooms, though once the nobility and his daughter had left them, every member of the Tyrell House made their way to Ella's room, that she was to share with her sister. Margaery was almost upset when their family came piling in, interrupting her one-on-one time with Ella.

Willas instantly took the seat by Ella on her bed, and Garlan in a chair that he pushed till he was almost nose to nose with Ella. Margaery noticed that Loras hung back, sulking, unsure of where he fit. Being the youngest, and one of the few who were not privy to the family's plans, Loras was the only one in the room utterly unfamiliar with the lady they were all hugging and kissing and fawning over. She took his hand tenderly, the way he would after each night she spent with Joffrey, and led him forwards.

"My sweet child," Olenna breathed, her withered hand against Ella's tanned cheek. "You have returned to us."

Ella's lips trembled, and Willas quickly wrapped a comforting arm around her. "You're all so changed."

Garlan chuckled. Margaery had seen Garlan's reaction to finding out that his favourite sister was safe and sound with the Targaryen king they were going to reinstate and not off with some Dornishman or dead, and reflected on how angry he'd been. _He smashed our entire solace and hid at Brightwater Keep for days._ It was his wife who'd pushed him to reconcile, and gave him her blessing to leaver her alone, with child, to see his sister in Dorne. "It's been ten years, sis."

"Technically, only nine," Willas pointed out.

"How are you?" Alerie blurted, flushing straight afterwards.

Ella looked at her mother, and Margaery tried to remember if there was any hostility between mother and daughter. Like all her siblings, except Willas maybe, Margaery was much closer to Olenna than her own, sweet, lady mother, but she still loved her nonetheless and trusted her implicitly. "Mother," she barely whispered. "Do you know how many people I've come across who only longed for a mother?" And then she was engulfing the slight Alerie in a tight hug. Margaery noticed the lean muscles in her sister's arms, and was shocked by how firm and stringed they seemed to be. _By the seven,_ she thought aghast, _our Ella is fighter._

~x~

Mace, Alerie and Olenna had eventually been forced to leave to attend to important matters, though a half-blind man could tell they very much didn't want to. Mace had planted half a hundred kisses upon Ella's forehead before making his exit, Alerie had teared up again, and Olenna had scolded them all for being soft but squeezed Ella's delicate hands in her own before she herself walked out.

Now, only the five Tyrell children remained, and it was clear to Margaery that despite general belief and opinion, Willas was Ella's closest and favourite brother, while Garlan was simply her playmate, partner in crime. _What are we?_ Margaery asked herself, looking at Loras.

"I didn't know that you and . . ." Loras' raspy voice said. Ella quickly moved to sit by him on Margaery's bed.

"Loras," she smiled, a wide happy smile, the kind Loras himself had used to wear. "My youngest brother. The most exciting if the tales are true," she added, grinning.

Loras offered her a faint shadow of his old, infamous smirk. "Of course I am," he replied. "Not that it's hard. Will and Garlan don't provide much challenge."

"I can't say I disagree," Ella said, a small twinkle in her deep blue eyes.

Underneath the lightly bronzed skin, and raven black hair, Margaery could see the similarities between Ella and herself and their brothers. _Her hair may be darker, but it is thick and curly like mine, Loras', Garlan and Will's, and she is tall like the rest of us, and shapely like I, high cheekbones like Mother, and rosy lips like us, too. Only her eyes have been permanently changed against us, slanted and narrow and dark blue, where mine are large and brown._ Margaery was stunned by how gently and aptly Ella spoke with Loras, clearly sensing how damaged he was, and loved her sister even more for it, if that were even possible.

"They say you're skill with a sword and lance is unmatched by anyone," Ella was saying. "I was so proud, I told everyone who listened about you once I revealed my identity. Though in my head, I always thought it would be Garlan who'd be the prodigy."

"I still am," Garlan protested. "Garlan the _Gallant_!"

"Only thanks to Will," Margaery rolled her eyes.

"Only thanks to _my_ unmatched skill on the battlefield," he retorted.

"Siblings," Ella said, savouring the word. _She must have missed us._ "Allow me to cast a seriousness among us."

"What do you speak of, Ella?" Willas asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Is it the king?" Garlan almost growled, all mirth gone from his face. "Is he forcing you into this marriage?" Margaery knew that most of his anger lay with the fact that already one of his sister's had wed an insufferable and monstrous king, while he'd been unable to do anything about it.

"No, no," her sister said hastily. "No I . . . We, love each other. I'm glad Princess Arianne let us be together."

"She hardly _let_ you," Margaery commented. "Not only will Dorne have two seats on His Grace's small council, but her daughter will end up ruling as consort as she was supposed to in the years to come."

"That matters none," Ella waved it away. "Viserys and I will still wed."

"He's good to you?" Willas asked, hesitantly.

"He loves me," she answered, with finality. _So her Targaryens are off-limits. Wonderful. What must we do for her to love us more?_ "But I wished to speak of all your sacrifices for me and for His Grace," she turned to Margaery. "You wed twice, for me, and on the second time, lost your . . . virtue, and I'm sure, many other things to that Lannister bastard and his mother. While I hid in Essos, you aided me and I am eternally grateful, sister."

"It was no—"

"It was," Ella said over her. "And Will, I know I caused you years of worry and a few of those wrinkles," she joked weakly. "And you as well, Garlan. For that, I am sorry, for the two of you were my closest companions." Then she turned to Loras, and seemed suddenly very upset. "My sweet brother who I never knew . . . I am sorry, for Renly. I am so sorry."

Margaery could tell Loras was trying his upmost not to let any tears fall, yet Ella seemed to have no of his inhibitions and let the water fall plainly from her eyes. "I never knew him and truthfully, I hardly knew you either, so I can't begin to even understand . . . I'm sorry he had to die for me."

"He didn't," Garlan interjected. "Renly died because someone killed him. Not you, Ella."

"Yes I know but he would've had to die anyways for . . . Viserys to rule, and I wouldn't have stopped it."

The group fell quiet for a while as they all digested the fact that Ella would've allowed Renly to die for her Targaryen. It wasn't as if Margaery or her brothers—except Loras—were particularly fond of Renly, they simply got on well with him for Loras' sake, plus it was clear as day that the late Baratheron was completely smitten with Loras. _How could we ever hate Renly? He was harmless, truly, a child playing at being a man._

"I don't blame you," Loras eventually told her.

"Who do you blame, then?" Ella asked gingerly.

Margaery, Willas and Garlan held their breaths. "Just three people," Loras answered. "Brienne of Tarth, Stannis," he snarled the man's name. "And your king."


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks to the whisperingwillowtree for beta'ing.**

* * *

 **17th of the Fourth Month of 300 AC**

 **King Viserys III**

Tyrion Lannister proved a difficult enigma for Viserys; a large part of him felt sorry for the man, it was easy to tell that Tyrion Lannister had been beaten, abused and loathed his entire life. Viserys could somewhat empathise. Yet, Tyrion Lannister was still just that, a Lannister, spawn of the very family that had personally seen to the death of his father, and Princess Elia. _They are poisonous._ Where Viserys could understand the reasoning the Starks might've held for desposing Aerys and Rhaegar, and even the drunkard Robert Baratheon, Viserys couldn't fathom at all, why Tywin Lannister had fought against his father, they had been best friends!

Tyrion still knelt at his feet. Feeling thoroughly exhausted, Viserys sighed and told the man to stand. "Was there anything else, my lord?"

Tyrion shook his head. "Only my sincerest vow that I shall fight and think for you alone, Your Grace."

 _Is this what kings do? Must I do this every day of my life? Figure out whom to kill and who, to keep?_ Viserys regarded Tyrion Lannister one last time. _He brought me valuable knowledge._ It had surprised Viserys to learn that this Lord Varys who Ser Jorah had been spying on him for was actually on his side, and secretly planning the fall of the Lannisters. _There's a man I certainly don't trust. Not only is he friends with Illyrio, which is enough for me to write anyone off, but he has been constructing the descent of the realm for years for me to swoop in and make it all right again._ Wars Viserys could tolerate, appreciate even, sometimes one had to fight for what they deserved, but intentionally seeking to cause chaos, that he would punish. _Alas, let me leave this Varys for another time._

He focused on Tyrion again. _He claims to be well-read. Ella's grandmother speaks highly of him. He has intimate knowledge of Lord Tywin and how he thinks._ In addition to this, despite knowing he would eventually destroy House Lannister the same way they'd tried destroy House Targaryen, Viserys was not in the habit of cruelly punishing sons for the crimes of their fathers.

"Your reputation compels me to accept you into my service, my lord," Viserys allowed a small smile to adorn his face. "How could I refuse such a crafty, resourceful person?"

Tyrion's mismatched eyes glinted mischievously. "We also share much of the same goals, Your Grace."

"Do we now?" This piqued his interest. "Very eager to witness the deaths of your closest kin, are you?"

"Perhaps not all of them, but the corpses of my dear sister and father would bring me nothing but absolute joy. I'd hang them above mine own bed to see them every night as I shut my eyes to sleep."

Viserys chuckled. _I must ask someone what Tywin and his cunt daughter did to make Tyrion mislike them so._ "You may have to wait in line—very many people have claimed ownership to the corpses of Lord Tywin and the Dowager Queen."

"Can't say that I am surprised."

Tyrion's wit was something to be treasured, Viserys thought. "Very well, Lord Tyrion, I shall accept you into my service, on two conditions."

"Anything, Your Grace."

"You must publicly and privately denounce your previous House," Viserys began. "You must publicly and privately remove Lannister from your name, and henceforth be known as Lord Tyrion until a suitable surname is chosen. You will cut all ties to your former House, name, and life, and start anew with me."

Tyrion was rendered silent. The king watched him steadily. _It might be cruel, what I ask of him. In my exile, some days it was only the memory of my former life, of who I was that got me through the day._ "Your Grace, I accept."

"Good," Viserys decided then, that he would be only kind to Tyrion. After all, Tyrion was no enemy of his. Tyrion took no part in the war. "I demand your upmost loyalty and discretion and your wisest counsel," the dwarf nodded sagely. "In return, I will offer you all the protection I can give, food and shelter should you need it, and a place in my court."

At this, Tyrion face twitched as a smile fought to be seen. _So he longs for family, for acceptance, much like myself and Dany._ Viserys stored the information away for future reference, and then sighed in relief. He was finally free, with no other duties to attend to. _Time to find Ella._

~x~

As he ascended up the stairs leading to where the Tyrell's were being hosted, Viserys came across Princess Arianne. Oddly, after the dissolution of their engagement, there was no hostility or awkwardness between the two, just the light, pseudo-flirty friendship they'd always had. He trusted her no less but no more, and she did not register as dangerous in his mind. _If anything, she is harmless to me, since she needs my son and my armies for her cause._ Though the king also thought that regardless of what she says, Arianne knew nothing of Princess Elia and bore no real ill will in her heart over the woman's gruesome death or that of her children, that screamed for vengeance the way Oberyn did. Arianne, very much like every other person, wanted the best for her House and her lands, and wanted to have fun while doing it. _She strives to impress her father, though, that might prove bothersome in the future._

By no means was Princess Arianne stupid, Viserys knew she was shrewd and clever, yet where her father and uncle were secretive and cunning and patient, Arianne was open and wild and fierce. _And soon, she shall be one of my vassal lords._ Which is why Viserys put effort into his friendship with her, knowing that when her father died, it was she he would have to negotiate and work with. _I shall do this with all the young lordlings whose father's have one foot in the grave. Make them know me, make them loyal to me, not just my throne, but me._

"Off to visit your little girlfriend, are we?" She teased.

"I'd hardly call her my girlfriend, my lady," Viserys answered. "My fiancée, perhaps."

Arianne grinned. "I must say, neither of you are half as excited as I thought you'd be. Poor Dany looks happier with Quentyn than you or your Lady Ella."

Viserys' confusion must have shown on his face, for Arianne asked, "have you not seen her, Your Grace?"

"No," he replied shortly. "I've been busy with the army and whatnot."

"Oh my," she genuinely sounded concerned. "I thought the two of you were in love?"

"We are," he insisted, angry at having to defend himself. "We are, we've both been engaged. You do realise she's just been reunited with her family after ten years?"

Arianne blushed prettily. "Of course, my mistake Your Grace. Do give Lady Ella and her siblings my regards," she turned to walk off down the other end of the hallway. "And I do hope everything works out fortunately with the two of you."

"It will," he responded, feeling some guilt at snapping at her. "Thanks to you."

"I'm a romantic at heart, Your Grace, never will I stand in the way of true love." And thus, she left.

As he strolled won the deserted halls, frequented only by the odd maid, Viserys' mind drifted to the two children in his care. His daughter and Daenerys, because whatever she and others might claim, Dany was still a child to her older brother. The latter, as Arianne had pointed out, seemed very much content with her new match, and hadn't complained to him once since. The former, his small daughter, had caught already caught some new illness that was apparently contagious, and much more deadly in adults. He'd fretted over her, even when Prince Doran had offered his own to maesters to heal her. His worry had only ceased that morning, when Daenerys told him that Lord Willas had also seen to her and she was now steadily recovering. He'd been ashamed at that—Lord Willas, whom he had no friendship with at all, had risked catching the disease to help his bastard daughter, while he had been too busy to see to her and too tired to argue with the maesters about being allowed into her sickroom. It was probably due to Ella that her brother was allowed in. Another thing about being king that Viserys wasn't fond of, was the lack of time he had to spend with his loved ones.

Ser Jorah greeted him as he approached Ella's door, looking solemn as ever.

"I'm sure there's no need for you to guard her door, ser," Viserys joked as he neared the man.

Ser Jorah shrugged. "I'm her official sworn sword now, this is what I do."

"I seriously doubt Ella ordered you to stand vigil outside her door."

"Aye, she did not, but her grandmother made it clear that I must do my upmost to keep her safe."

Viserys laughed. "Taking orders from an old woman? My, my. Well, go on, let me in."

An uncomfortable look flitted over Jorah's features. "Your Grace—"

"Please, call me Viserys, I've told you this already."

"Viserys then," the knight sighed. "She's in there with her siblings. I don't think—"

"I'm her king," Viserys said over him. "I can go anywhere I please," he cringed at how childish he sounded. "Come Jorah, move aside, you know Ella and I are family."

"My boy," Jorah said, warming the young king momentarily with the sentiment. "I've been stood within earshot of the room the last two days. I've heard everything they've had to say, and hear me when I tell you; I don't think you should go in."

Taken aback, Viserys simply stared at the man in shock for a few moments. "They don't like me?" He asked in a small voice. "But Lady Olenna and Lord Tyrell were more than polite with me and thanked me for looking after Ella all these years," he protested. "Ella's to be my _wife_ —"

And suddenly, Ella appeared at the door, wearing the kind of finely embroidered dress her sister Margaery had been sporting ever since Viserys arrived. He much preferred her in the loose fitting gowns of Essos. Her hair was beginning to lighten, as if she'd stop dying it, and was now a dark auburn and brushed into an intricate up-do, again, much like her sister Margaery's. All Viserys could think of was the numerous times Ella had told Dany she thought the elaborate styles of the south were much to tedious for her. He was glad to find that her eyes still remained the same, narrowed and dark blue. "Jorah," she scolded. "I told you to ignore whatever Grandmother's been telling you. Either come inside with us or have fun elsewhere. I won't have you stood in this heat doing and saying nothing, ser."

The knight grinned and blushed. "I don't think I can ignore whatever the Queen of Thorns says."

"Please," she said. "At least go and have something to drink?"

"Yes, my lady," then he nodded at Viserys. "I told him not to come in."

As if just realising he was stood there, Ella glanced over at the king. "You heard what Loras said then, I take it?"

"Aye," he answered regretfully.

"Loras? The youngest one?" Viserys piped in. "He doesn't know me."

Ella sighed. "It's complicated. I'll explain when we're alone," she promised. "But do please come in Vis," she reached out for his hand, grasping it as if they were children again. "I've been waiting to properly introduce you for days."

Feeling a lot less anxious, Viserys winked at Ser Jorah who shuck his head in a good natured way. _I do miss that dour knight,_ Viserys thought as Ella dragged him inside her room.

"Oh," one of the brothers blustered. "Your Grace," he rose and bowed, as did the others, who Viserys narrowed down to: Ser Garlan, Lord Willas, Lady Margaery, Ser Loras and the orphan Ella had unofficially adopted, Corman. Ser Loras wore a sour, melancholy expression.

"Do away with the formalities," Viserys said, waving a hand. "We're to be family." Then he looked at Corman.

"Even me, sir?" Corman inquired eagerly.

"Even me, _Your Grace_ ," Ella corrected gently. "And sure."

Viserys raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. "Lady Margaery," she seemed to be the easiest for him to talk to, always wearing a friendly smile and apparently the only one who'd recognised and hopefully approved of Ella's love for him. "I must say, you're looking rather pretty today."

"Why thank you, Your Grace," she responded, not blushing once, as her older sister would've. "You must forgive me for saying that you are also, quite dashing."

"Just quite?" Ella challenged, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "He's _beautiful_."

Her brother, Garlan, rolled his eyes while smiling, Lord Willas simply watched with amusement dancing in his eyes, Corman blushed and Lady Margaery grinned widely. Viserys could hardly believe what was happening. He'd only ever seen Ella so carefree and affectionate towards him when they were alone or with Dany and occasionally Ser Jorah. It pleased him to find that she was just as excited as he about their upcoming nuptials and still as in love with him as always. _Even after this Ser Loras' apparent disliking of me._

"Family," Ella announced. "This is Viserys, who I've spent the last nine years with, and am going to wed," she was practically beaming. "Viserys, these are my brothers. Will, Garlan, and Loras, and of course Margaery," she gestured to each of them.

Viserys nodded regally at each in turn, and allowed a smile to grace his face when he turned to Margaery, who winked playfully. "It's an honour to meet you all," he said. "I've already spoken of this with your parents, but I'd like to thank you all again for your immense sacrifices for my cause and can only hope that keeping Ella happy and safe for the rest of her life can begin to make up for it."

Garlan and Willas seemed to approve, and Margaery's face exposed no feelings. Loras scoffed quietly under his breath, which Viserys chose to ignore, an easy task with the way Ella clung daintily to his arm. He ached to wrap his own around her, and hold her body close to his, but he knew that was not the way things were done in Westeros. Not for the first time since arriving in Dorne, Viserys mused at how easy things had been in Essos.

 **Lady Ella Tyrell**

As the time strolled by, Ella took extreme care to properly acquaint Viserys to her siblings. She'd seen how quickly and stubbornly Loras disliked the king, and though she understood why her brother felt so, she didn't think she could bare all of her siblings hating Viserys. Especially since she knew it wouldn't deter her from eventually wedding him. _Oh, how happy I will be when Viserys cloaks me in his colours._

Ella had never in her life felt anything but intense hatred or indifference to Westerosi customs nor the idea of marriage and a family, yet in the space of a few days she had rapidly come to like them, now they definitely concerned Viserys. _He shan't own me, as that bastard sought to do with Margaery, but I shall be his and he, mine. I am marrying my best friend!_ And despite being in the company of her brothers and sisters, Ella's mind even drifted to their eventual bedding. _In our own bed, with nothing but satin sheets and feather-filled pillows to interrupt us._ Inevitably, a furious blush flashed across Ella's cheek.

"Dragon for your thoughts?" Margaery jested.

"Oh? Just wondering where Daenerys is," Ella hastily answered, slightly ashamed that she hadn't really spared a thought for or had a conversation with the young princess.

Ella didn't miss the downcast look her sister shared with Loras, who returned a knowing, almost defeated look. What is that about?

"I saw her walking with Prince Quentyn earlier today, on my way to your chambers," Will informed her. "I waved, but she didn't even spare me a look."

"She's very preoccupied at the moment," Ella said defensively. "What with getting to know the prince."

"As well as watching over Rhaena, while I am otherwise disposed," Viserys snaked their fingers together discreetly, as he said this, sharing a small smile with her. Immediately, her worries over Loras and Margaery and Daenerys dissipated, and she thought again of spending the rest of her life with the man holding her hand.

"You do seem rather besotted," Garlan commented, almost regretfully. "I always wanted that for you, sister," he continued, tenderly. "When they told me you'd ran away—I always reminded myself that you were happy wherever you are, jaunting across the world with some man who hopelessly tried to keep up with you."

"Garlan . . . " she said, words not able to convey the affection she held for him.

"And then they told me where you actually were and who you were with—" his dark brown eyes flashed up at the king. "And anyone can attest this; I just lost it. My little sister, starving, alone with some Targaryens for company. I could hardly see past my rage," he admitted, causing Viserys' hold on her hand to tighten, almost painfully. "But, and I'm sure Will and Marg will agree, it seems you did the right thing," he almost choked on his words. He then looked up at Viserys. "Thank you for looking after her and making her happy when we couldn't. I wish you both nothing but happiness."

Tears had already fallen from Ella's eyes, as she fought the urge to launch into her brother's arms again. _They'll think me soft if I keep these public displays of affection up._ She was so distracted by her brother's impromptu speech, Ella didn't notice the tell-tale glisten in Viserys' eyes, or the fierce look of determination on his face as he promised Garlan that he would do nothing but keep Ella happy for the rest of his days.

"You did make me happy, Garlan," Ella managed to get out. "Most days it was only you who did. And Will," she added, squeezing her eldest brother's hand. "But you're right. Essos was the best place for me, and I'm glad I went."

 **Lady Margaery Tyrell**

As she watched her two oldest brother's joke and debate with their new king, with much more ease and enthusiasm now that Garlan had officially accepted him as one of their own, Margaery could barely hold in her joy at seeing such a happy couple. _So rare to find in our world,_ she thought, _but Ella has certainly found it._ The king could hardly take his eyes of her sister, brushing hair from her face, planting light kisses on her fingertips or exchanging sickeningly sweet smiles when he thought no-one was looking. Additionally, he spoke of her in the highest regard, boasting of how smart and quick and lovely and kind and simply adorable Ella was, to Will and Garlan, and had obviously been planning his life with her for a long time as he explained exactly how together, they would rule the Seven Kingdoms, utilising their respective talents and qualities.

Though Ella was much more subtle, her affection for Viserys was clear as day, too. She blushed whenever he said anything sweet about her, sang his praises and displayed very high tolerance—love, even—for his bastard (which had inexplicably been brought up, by Loras no less) which she claimed to love and planned to raise the babe alongside her and Viserys at court, once it was safe.

Margaery had to agree with Garlan and Will, Viserys made their sister happy and she was fully supportive of their union, in spite of whatever hardships and complications it now posed, just as she had been of Loras and Renly. Her own experiences with marriage and courtship had been both miserable and lonely, but knowing that love such as what Renly and Loras had shared, or what was now present between her sister and king, kept her faith that she would eventually meet someone who would make her heart flutter and stomach clench.

She only hoped she would soon be able to convince Loras of the same.

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

After two days of getting to know one another, Daenerys could confidently say that Prince Quentyn was decent, and clever, and reliable. She thought it would bore her. It very much did, her first few hours with him, but as she brought down her own walls guarding her heart and let go of the inhibitions and sour feelings she'd harboured for their union, he simultaneously loosened up around her, no longer stumbling over his own words or clamming up whenever Dany so much as looked at him kindly. Eventually, she found that he had travelled Essos extensively as well, some thing they had in common and it had improved their communications by tenfold.

After learning of how Dany had invested so much time and dedication in freeing the slaves of Dragon's Bay and keeping them free, Quentyn had immediately searched for books and scrolls with any information that could help her towards that goal and offered his own insight in how she could effectively rule from so far away. His steady, patient and insightful way of thinking perfectly matched Dany's more passionate and emotive approach to solving her problems and challenged more than a few of her theories and beliefs. Conversely, Daenerys' passion and fire seemed to have brought Quentyn to life. Both Arianne and her father had positively commented on how much more lively the prince seemed to be after only two days of Dany's company. Dany, herself, couldn't see that much of a difference, but she figured it was probably due to the fact that she had only met him a few days ago.

Presently, she cradled Rhaena in her arms, singing soft tunes to the babe as she lounged under the Dornish sun in a secluded garden at the back of the palace that Tyene had shown her. Quentyn eventually found her, looking slightly less dour than usual, a scroll in his thick hands. Dany smiled warmly at him, and he blushed faintly in reply, offering her a small nod. Dany wondered if she would ever truly be able to get used to his personality, so different to Drogo's, and Viserys' and every other man she'd ever had a close relationship with.

"Princess . . . Dany," he corrected himself. "Is this your . . ?"

"My niece, yes," she confirmed. "Rhaena."

"Fine and fair," he commented. "She looks a bit like you."

"You think I'm fine and fair?" Dany teased.

"I—I only meant your colouring—"

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Come, sit."

Quentyn obeyed, sitting stiffly by her, his eyes trained almost painfully on the ground. They had made progress, yes, but there was still much farther to go.

"You seem fond of her," the Dornishman eventually said.

"I am," Dany agreed. "She's the future of my House. The future of my family's rule. She's —"

"Your niece," Quentyn finished for her, somehow putting a lot more meaning into the two words than he had done previously.

"Exactly," she smiled at him, and for the first time, Quentyn smiled back. "Without me, she'll have no one."

"What about her father? And her future mother?" Dany sensed that the prince was secretly furtive about the prospect of her raising her brother's bastard in their home. She quickly nipped that in the bud.

"They will be the king and queen—with little time to spare for her. Especially for the first few years. It is my duty to raise her to the best of my abilities until Viserys orders me otherwise."

Dany liked that she was now able to speak her mind and feelings boldly, without fear of any consequences. _Had he been Drogo, I'd have had to seduce him for weeks into seeing things my way. Even then, it mightn't have worked._ That was another thing Daenerys rather liked about Quentyn, the fact that she would not have to use her body to communicate with him. Though Ella had spoken of how women must utilise their others gifts in order to convince their husbands, Dany hadn't much liked it, she much preferred having sex for fun. For _pleasure_. _And even Ella herself has refused to so much as kiss a man to get her own way. If her beguiling charms and sultry eyes didn't work, then Ella would go no further._ Yes, Dany very much liked having a husband who would not punish her for being, well, her.

"And once we wed," Quentyn said, sounding as if he'd laboured over the right words for a while. "It will be our duty."

Cautiously, he reached a hand into the blanketed bundle in Daenerys' arms and stroked the cheek of his future niece. Dany decided then, that she would most definitely give her new prince a chance.


	25. Chapter 25

**Beta:**

* * *

 **23rd of the Fourth Month of 300 AC**

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

It had been nearly ten days, and Daenerys had to admit, she rather liked Dorne now. The disappointment at having her betrothal to Willas broken, and the lost chance to live in the palace of Highgarden had at first soured Dany's opinion of Sunspear. Even after she'd decided to make the best of her situation, the resentment still churned deep inside her.

Now, however, as she strolled through the familiar pathways near the busyness of the town centre, Dany almost felt at home. Almost. There were still small twinges of longing whenever she caught Ella laughing with her Lady Margaery, or her two very handsome brothers. More so, when she saw her own brother walking and talking with Ella. _I suppose this is how things must be now,_ she often thought to herself, _I will simply have to make my own family. With Quentyn._ The thought didn't exactly upset her, but neither did it quicken her heart.

"Princess!" A stall holder called. _Oh no, I have strayed too far without a a guard._ "Princess Daenerys! Do try a pepper!" He insisted, in a thick accent.

 _What harm will it do?_ She asked herself, walking over to the tall, lanky man; trying very hard not to think of the time she'd almost been poisoned by another stall holder. _I am their princess here_ , Dany reminded herself, _none shall dare poison me with my brother's swords so close by._ To her far left, Daenerys spied some of Ella's father's men. _Not mine necessarily, but close enough._ "Which one would you suggest?" She said politely, flashing her bright smile.

The man seemed momentarily speechless, but quickly regained his composure. "The green one – it is stuffed with cheese onion, my princess, a national dish."

Tentatively, Dany bit into the tip of the long, fat pepper. It exploded on her tongue, leaving a trail of heat she ungracefully tried to blow out. The man laughed. "You must get used to our food," he advised. "It shall be yours soon."

Before Daenerys could respond, a mob of Dornish men, woman and children surrounded her. Dany was used to crowds; she'd spent most of her youth in busy cities, and the last year in Dragon's Bay where she couldn't take more than five steps outside their lodgings without being flocked by grateful slaves and her many admirers. _Particularly when I had my Drogon._ So when some of the younger children reached out to feel her silver hair, that she'd worn loose that day, Daenerys did not flinch, but instead reached out to feel theirs, marvelling at the thickness and the way it shone in the sun.

"Sara!" A mother scolded sharply. "Don't touch the princess' hair with such filthy hands!"

"I don't mind," Dany replied. "After all, she let me touch hers." Sara dimpled and blushed.

The mother seemed bemused at the friendliness Dany was affording them. "Are you to be our princess then?"

"Another Daenerys Martell!" Someone yelled.

"Princess Arianne is the heir to Sunspear," Dany told the woman diplomatically. "But I am to wed your Prince Quentyn."

"Shame," a greasy man commented. "Such a pretty face wasted on such a boring lad."

"Hush," someone hissed. "Don't be so disrespectful."

"Fall back," the original stall holder Dany had entertained, shouted. "You're all going to suffocate her! Do you want to be responsible for the death of our lady?"

Daenerys wasn't sure when she'd become 'their' lady and stopped being Princess Daenerys Targaryen of Dragonstone, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant thought. _Why not be their lady, if they want me?_

Despite the stall holder's warning, the crowd didn't thin out until some Tyrell guards stepped in. Not the ones Dany had seen earlier, but a different pair. They pushed through the throngs of tanned people as if they were little more than trash, in a desperate bid to get hold of the princess. Dany's blood burnt as their casual dismissal of these people. _My people._

"Princess," one of them said. "You must come with us at once."

" _Now_ ," the second one emphasised.

"Excuse me, sers," Daenerys said firmly. "But it seems you've injured some of these lovely folk. I am quite sure it was not done intentionally, but an apology mightn't do any harm."

The crowd watched intently as Dany stared unflinching at the two men. _You might have been my men once. But perhaps your people would not have loved me so. Perhaps they would've always loved their fair Margaery more._

"We do apologise if we harmed any civilians," one ground out stiffly. "But we are in great haste, His Grace has requested your urgent presence."

 _Rhaena! It must be Rhaena._ "Very well then." Dany turned to her gathered group of fans. "I do thank you for your warm welcome. And you for my stuffed pepper," she grinned at the man.

"It was my pleasure," he called after her, as Ella's family's guards led her away.

 **King Viserys III**

He had called his first official small council meeting. _Though this is not exactly small,_ he admitted, _nor is this my true small council—they have to be people I trust implicitly, and well, Oberyn and Doran are not those people._ Along with the two princely brothers, and Ser Barristan, there were eight others: Princess Arianne, Nymeria, Lady Olenna, Lord Mace, Lady Alerie, Garlan, Will and Margaery, and of course, his Ella. He knew they were eager to start the discussion; Lady Olenna and Oberyn had been hounding Viserys for this meeting the last five days. Only Ella had been able to keep his patience in tact.

 _"I'll tell Grandmother to stop," she promised. "She forgets you are not her grandson. You mustn't let her intimidate you–it will only encourage her."_

But he wouldn't start without Daenerys. Regretfully, he hadn't spent much time with his little sister since arriving at Dorne. He had meant to, but the time hadn't presented itself. _Besides, Arianne tells me she and Quentyn are nearly inseparable now. I wouldn't want to stop them bonding, since I'm the one that stuck them together._ That fact still nagged at his conscience every once in a while. _Dany understands,_ he consoled himself, _it was the best decision for our family. For Rhaena._

Finally, the Daenerys entered—Quentyn dutifully by her side—garbed in the flowing silks Arianne usually wore when she attended to matters at court. _She looks so different._ The silks were a light blue that flattered her pale, creamy complexion. Her hair was let loose, cascading down her back impressively. Unlike the Dornish princess, Dany did not don ostentatious amounts of jewellery, simply wearing a silver pendant that Ella had given her a few years ago. He was glad Ella hadn't taken to that particular fad either, Viserys found unnecessary accessories off putting. Though Ella still wore the tight, fitted gowns of Highgarden and her hair plaited into a complex design. _If that's what she likes, I cannot possibly tell her to change it._ Though he desperately wanted to.

"Brother," Dany greeted him warmly. "Prince Doran, Oberyn," she nodded to each in turn, as well as the other guests, respectfully.

"Come sit, Dany," Ella offered the seat by her side. Dany obliged, planting several kisses on Ella's cheek before doing so. "It has been long, sister," Ella smiled.

"Now we may begin," Viserys announced, and Oberyn rolled his eyes heavily.

"Ignore him," Ella mouthed. Nymeria chuckled at her father's antics. Viserys counted to ten.

"The first order of business, I believe, is your coming invasion of the seven kingdoms," Doran began. "Have you decided where you will begin? Your Grace."

"I have discussed this at length," Viserys eyed Ella from the corner of his eyes, she gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand softly. "With each of you, and have decided that my first order of business shall be in the North."

This garnered a general consensus of surprise. Only Ella seemed completely unsurprised. "Why, might I ask?" Arianne interjected. "The North is vast, and a million leagues from here and King's Landing. It is no concern for a southern king."

"I disagree," Viserys answered lightly. "I do not seek to be king in only name, but actions too. Where Cersei and her spawn have led the kingdoms to destruction in their bid for power, I will put them back together and heal the scars."

"He cannot call himself lord of the seven kingdoms if he does not wish to protect them all," Ella added. Viserys detected a hint of nervousness in her voice, and winked at her, letting her know she was doing well and was well within her place to add to the meeting. _She is my queen._

"Perhaps," Oberyn said. "But don't you think it would be wise to start in the South? Secure the throne first, before you run off to play hero in the North?"

"My future good-sister has informed me of her belief that Sansa Stark resides in the North, hidden from the Lannisters. If I go to the North, locate her, return Winterfell to her, not only will I have the loyalty and fealty of the Starks and her bannermen, I will have whatever swords they can gather, and establish myself as their monarch. With their support, facing Tywin in the South will be much easier." Viserys didn't mention the dreams Ella had also been having, the ones that showed an elderly man at the Wall calling out for Rhaegar's son. Doran and his family didn't need to know just how sentimental King Viserys actually was.

"You've thought deeply about this," Doran said. "Very well, my brother and I shan't stop you, and we will of course offer some of our men to accompany you, as per our deal."

"I am grateful," Viserys answered. "I will be taking the Unsullied, half the Golden Company the men Lord Tyrell has offered me, Lady Ella and our dragons. In return I will leave the other half of the Golden Company to help defend the Dornish Marshes as well as any other vulnerable areas in the Reach."

Many other topics were discussed, that Prince Oberyn and Doran dominated, forcefully enforcing Dornish interests and pursuits, and Arianne and Nymeria discussed their posts in King's Landing once Viserys took over. _So many demands. It's as if they think they gave me this throne. It is mine! It has been since my birth. Even their army is pittance compared to what Mace commands_ and _is willing to give me._ But Viserys entertained them, knowing that any offence he gave Dorne he would eventually pay for, tenfold. _If not me, then my sons._

Eventually, Dany's upcoming nuptials were brought up. Both Lady Olenna and Prince Doran believed the wedding should be held off until Viserys had left the war, unscathed and victorious. Lady Olenna, because she believed if something were to happen between Ella and himself, she still wanted Daenerys as another royal to wed into her family, and Prince Doran because he did not wish to be bonded so permanently to Viserys' cause. _So little faith._ Viserys regarded Arianne and her cousin, who both stayed uncharacteristically quiet. The king thought they disagreed with Doran but did not wish to risk offending him and speak out. Just as Viserys opened his mouth to decree that his sister would be wedded within a month, Prince Quentyn surprised him by speaking up instead.

"With all due respect, my lord and lady, but I do wish to marry Daenerys well before what either of you have suggested."

His sister turned to her fiancé in barely veiled shock. _So he cares for her, then._ That pleased the king somewhat. _Good. Dany deserves happiness. More so than I._

"When would you suggest then, nephew?" Oberyn asked mockingly.

"Within a fortnight. Before the king leaves on his quest to the North. Should he leave with Daenerys, I would like to know that she is my wife, and travel with her as husband and wife, or should he leave without her, I would offer the comfort of knowing that his sister is kept safe."

 _Well, colour me surprised._ Ella regarded the stoic prince with appraisal and hints of suspicion. Arianne and Nymeria watched Quentyn with matching expressions of shock and glee. "With your permission, of course, Your Grace," the stout man added.

"If my sister does agree, then I shall happily give you both my blessing."

"I do," Dany breathed. Then, as if remembering who she was, she turned to Quentyn and embraced him a tight hug. Viserys almost laughed at how awkward the prince looked, as he tried to wrap his arms around Dany in an affectionate yet respectful way. _I do hope I've made the right decision._

"Well, if that's all," Arianne said, rising from her seat. "Then I do believe we all have letters to write, informing the realm of the new king."

"The rightful king," Lord Mace said.

"Before we do," Ella interjected. "I do have another condition I'd like to add, that you must agree to if you wish to have any of my children marrying yours," though she addressed Arianne, Ella's eyes were focused on Prince Doran. _Not for much longer,_ Viserys thought.

"Which are?" The man asked.

"The rulers of Dorne will henceforth be titled as lord and ladies. The only prince's and princess' amongst the realm shall bear the name Targaryen."

Silence rung around the room.

Viserys fought hard to keep his smile hidden; when Margaery and Ella had initially thought of this idea, he'd thought it ludicrous. _Why punish them, when all they have done is help?_ But upon thinking about it, speaking to Lord Tyrion and Lady Olenna, he'd started to see the subtle benefits. _If we subdue Dorne in all ways, the one kingdom that withstood the might of my House centuries earlier, it will set a very favourable tone for the outcome of this war._

Arianne spoke before her father had chance to. "And this is not negotiable?" Viserys sensed it irritated the girl to have to ask Ella for leeway.

"Unless you don't wish to be part of the realm any longer," Ella answered lightly. "In which case, we shall withdraw all Targaryen and Tyrell swords from Dorne at once."

Where she sat, Dany clutched her betrothed's arm.

"Settling into your new role quite quickly, aren't you, my lady?" Oberyn said curtly.

"Mind your tongue," Olenna quipped from where she sat.

"Very well," Doran's voice echoed. "I see no immediate reason as to why I should decline your conditions, my lady. So I shall accept, unless my daughter does."

The room turned their eyes to the short princess, who for once, seemed to be out of words. She glanced quickly at Daenerys and her brother, sat closely together, already at synch with one another, and gulped delicately. "Dorne accepts your terms, my lady."

Oberyn's anger seemed to radiate off him. Viserys could remember feeling like that. So angry that it almost blanketed you, in it's hot, toxic embrace. He remembered the destructive things he'd done while encased in said anger and a made a note to keep a close eye on the Red Viper.

"Then I shall expect all further letters you send, be signed as Lord's and Ladies. Will that be an issue?"

"Of course not," Arianne said through a tight smile.

"Good," Viserys broke in, smiling. "I do so love when issues are ironed out quickly."

"It's good that we can work together so efficiently," Ella added, smiling widely. "Since we are to be family, no?"

"Definitely," Doran agreed.

~x~

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

Quentyn's slow, steady steps, allowed Dany the time to contemplate what had just happened. _I think. . . I think I've just been proposed to! I'm engaged!_ Daenerys couldn't fight her inane girlish impulses, and squealed internally. His bold intention to marry her _despite_ what his family thought, had warmed Daenerys. Sent fluttering feelings of affection and joy throughout her tiny form. Before, she'd liked Quentyn, admired him, enjoyed spending time with him; yet there had always been that hesitation hovering over whatever feelings she'd had, the anxiety of whether she'd ever truly love him. She wasn't very sure now, but she was much more eager to try. _He wants me._

They arrived at his study—the one place Dany hadn't insisted on entering. Quentyn gestured for her to go in first, and Dany happily did so. Once she entered, however, she found herself quietly awestruck. The room was small, and square, very much like it's owner. The furniture was all a dark, rich brown, thick curtains swung regally over the small window, and the lone purple flower Daenerys had jokingly given to her betrothed a few days ago, stood proudly on the large, organised desk, in a crystal vase.

"You kept it," she breathed, almost accusingly.

He grunted uncomfortably. "It's a very pretty flower."

"Yes." Dany desperately wanted him to say more.

As if he'd read her mind, Quentyn added, "And it was given to me by you."

"Why did you do that?" She asked. "Truly?"

"You're very beautiful," he told her, struggling to maintain eye contact. Dany's heart sunk some, she didn't want another relationship based purely on the fact that her looks were distinguished and exotic. "And you make me laugh. More so than anyone I've ever met," he seemed exceedingly nervous. So much so, that Dany stretched out a hand and placed it on his arm, comfortingly, urging him to go on with her eyes. Seeming to gain confidence from her touch, he ploughed on. "You care for your niece, more than my uncle has ever cared for me or my siblings; your eyes light up when you're angry or happy or just simply you, and you gave me a chance. I know you were to wed the Lord of Highgarden, and we both know that he is much handsomer than I, much wealthier than I, perhaps a much better person than I, and yet you gave me a chance, and for that, I want to look after you. Always," and on the last word, he looked into her eyes, unwavering.

There were no words in her that could possibly match what Quentyn had told her. And she did not wish to lie to him and make emotional declarations of love, so she simply squeezed his arm tightly, hoping he understood what she was trying to communicate.

"Would you mind helping me write these letters? You have a way with words that I can't quite replicate."

"Of course," Dany replied, softly.


	26. Chapter 26

**24th of the Fourth Month of 300 AC**

 **Lady Ella Tyrell**

 _He's tall and muscular, with an air of melancholy around him. His hair falls in shiny curls around his long, hard face, that speaks of years of suffering. Laugh lines are few, while scars and cuts are aplenty. He wears full black. There's a white light behind him, beaming brightly, and Ella wonders if she is dead. Is this heaven? But when the man opens his mouth to speak, an old man's voice is heard instead._

 _"It's your son, Rhaegar," it croaks. "The one that shall save us all."_

 _And then the light shines brighter, and brighter and brighter—_

Ella awakes in a frenzy, shaking heavily, her breathing ragged and shallow. It was not the first time the mystery man, surely younger than her in age, with a ninety year old's voice had haunted her dreams. _Nightmares_ , she thought. Not knowing what her dreams meant, and having no way to find out, had troubled her for days. Each morning she woke with laboured breaths and fright on her face she had to hide from her sister, snoring delicately across the room. It was days like those she wished she were back in Essos, where Viserys could've slept beside her without fear of appearing improper. Knowing that he'd probably been awake for hours irked her further. Eager to speak with him, Ella pulled herself out of bed and hurriedly put herself together, spending less than fifteen minutes bathing. Deciding not to bother with an elaborate hairdo or waste time squeezing herself into one of Margaery's dresses, Ella drew on one of her own gowns, a flowing deep red garment that was fit her small waist rather tightly, and left her hair as a dark curtain around her face. Within half an hour, she was walking purposefully towards her king's room, that she remembered would be guarded by Ser Jorah today or an Unsullied soldier who wouldn't tell anyone about her private visit.

"Sister?" A quiet voice called from the shadows.

Ella halted her march and looked to the direction of the voice. "Will?" She replied uncertainly.

"Try again," the voice said wryly.

"Loras," she realised. He appeared before her, forming from the shadows, wearing colourful armour and his usual downcast expression. "Why are you hiding?"

"Where are you off to?"

She blushed profusely, embarrassed at being found out by her brother. _Younger brother_ , she attempted to regain her grace, _I'm his senior by years_. "Why don't you answer my question first?"

"I wasn't hiding intentionally, I just found myself there."

"Interesting outfit," Ella commented.

A wry smile took over his lips. "My thoughts exactly when Renly first presented me with it."

"Oh," her smile fell.

"I was part of the Rainbow Guard. His kingsguard. Renly liked bright things–he was like a child in that manner. Things had to be exciting and colourful and new, for him to be interested."

"I imagine those tastes were hard to cater to," Ella said carefully.

"Sometimes. Yet I don't think he could've lived without me even if I had been the dullest, darkest and oldest thing known to man."

Ella smiled a little, unsure of whether Loras was having a breakdown, a confession, or a rant. "I've heard you were both extremely fond of each other."

"We were. He was my best friend – except for Marg, of course – and we'd been best friends for nearly eight years. Lovers for three."

"And now he's gone."

"Yes. Forever," Loras' pink, pouty lips trembled slightly. "Sometimes—"

"No, go on," Ella promoted gently. "If anything, the least I can do is listen to you."

"Sometimes I wish you'd died and he'd come back instead of you. Or your king, or his sister. You're interchangeable in the dark times."

Ella sucked in a sharp breath. _I can't blame him,_ she told herself as her heart splintered. "I think my life would be over if Viserys died."

"I'm sorry that I can't like him. I love you," he emphasised. "Like I love Margaery. My instincts tell me to protect you whenever I see you with him. Like I had to protect Margaery and Renly."

Ella didn't know how to respond to the most unfamiliar of her siblings; she stood watching him mouth agape as she wondered how broken a person could be to feel how Loras did. Before she had chance to say something– _anything_ , Loras stormed off looking angry and confused all at once. Forgetting all about her most recent dreams, she made to run after him when a warm hand grasped her arm.

A sharp, angry exclamation was on the edge of her lips as she turned around to see none other than Viserys staring back at her, his sharp lilac eyes glittering at her. "There you are," he said. "I thought I heard your dulcet tones."

She rolled her eyes. "I was just speaking to Loras, actually, and was about to go find him."

"Speaking to your brother, who doesn't like me, only a few steps away from my chambers?"

"Not everyone's going to like you, Viserys."

"Yes, but I assumed my good-brother would."

"He's not your good-brother yet," she reminded him, trying hard not to sound too defensive. "Give him some time. He lost the man he loved."

Ella pretended not to notice the grimace Viserys attempted to hide at the mention of Loras' sexuality. Though Viserys was not usually one to pass judgement on what people got up to in their private life, it seemed to come as a shock to him to find that the such things as same-sex couples existed in his oh-so-wonderful Westeros, especially in Ella's family, which after learning of the prestige of the Tyrells', he'd come to view as near perfect. The fact that Loras, who held so many traditionally male characteristics: skill on the battlefield, generous looks, female admirers, was also gay, seemed to always make the king uncomfortable.

"And he gained a sister," Viserys argued. "You'd imagine that your return would wash away those feelings of his."

Ella levelled an unimpressed look at her betrothed. "I'd hate to think that anyone could wash away your feelings of grief if I were to die."

All trace of mirth and irritation fled Viserys' face, almost startling Ella from her chiding of him. "We don't joke about your death, Ella."

"Nonetheless," she pressed on. "Spare Loras some patience and understanding."

Viserys didn't respond save for giving her a particularly tight hug. "So why are you up so early?" He questioned, as he led her back to his room.

Suddenly, Ella recalled the reason she'd dashed from her bed that morning. "I had another one," she told him. "It was the same man, and the same voice."

Ella could see she'd captured his full attention. "What did he say?"

"Rhaegar's son," she said. "Rhaegar's son will save us all."

 **Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone**

As she always did, Daenerys had risen early, so she could take Rhaena for their customary stroll through the palace gardens. Lilac flowers had sprouted all around the dusty city, and Rhaena had taken quite a liking to them; making her aunt stop every five steps in order to pluck one and grip it tightly in her small fist. "Pretty?" Dany would coo at the growing babe.

"Pwiddy," the seven-month-old would mimic.

"Very much like you," Quentyn smiled down at Rhaena, appearing as if from nowhere, yet no longer startling his fiancée who had become used to his silent appearances. "And you as well, Daenerys," he looked up at the smiling woman.

"I've told you to call me Dany on more than one occasion, my lord," she teased.

"I prefer the name given to you at birth, I think," he answered.

"It's a bit of a mouthful, though," she pointed out. "My friends' and family call me Dany, and I'd like to think soon enough you will be both."

"As would I. And I am fond of your nickname, and glad you want me to use it."

"If you _truly_ insist, you may of course call me Daenerys, but don't be surprised when you receive odd looks because of it."

"I've been receiving odds look all my life, princess," he teased.

Daenerys chuckled lightly in response, absent-mindedly touching her niece's soft blonde curls. Quentyn walked by her side noiselessly, stopping every moment or so to touch her arm; Daenerys didn't fail to notice he mostly did this whenever they passed _male_ soldiers, peasants, lords and knights alike. She smirked to herself, thinking who would be absurd enough to flirt with the heir to the Iron Throne whilst her betrothed, a high lord, stood right by her.

"My sister wants a date for the wedding," he said eventually. "I was thinking a ten days from now. Is that too soon?"

 _Of course it is,_ Dany thought to herself with a hint of bitterness. If she could have her own way, she wouldn't wed anyone for at least another year. But sadly, her own way had a habit of evading her and her common sense told her delaying this match would do great harm to hers and Viserys' cause. _We need Dorne,_ she reminded herself. _And_ , glancing at the tentative smile adorning her fiancé's face, _he needs me_.

"Not all my, my lord," she replied. "Who will organise the event?"

"Typically the bride's family, particularly if she is of higher status, but as His Grace does not have access to the royal funds, I believe there is a deal to be made between him and my father."

"Oh," Dany blushed. She hadn't realised she and Viserys were still technically as poor as they had been a year ago. _Not Ella though, Ella's one of the most eligible bride's in Westeros._ Dany shuddered to think what Ella's dowry would look like.

"And my dowry?"

Quentyn laughed, causing Rhaena to erupt into giggles too. "I'm marrying a princess, I don't need a dowry and I certainly didn't ask for one."

Dany frowned. "Nonetheless," she stated. "Viserys will provide a dowry. To appease your father, if anything."

Quentyn shrugged. "He has no lands to give me, and the only money is that which my family have leant him. Worry not, Daenerys," he added, sensing her irritation. "In a situation such as this, I'm sure our anniversary gift from the royal family will be significant."

Dany nodded, satisfied somewhat with that compromise. Besides, Quentyn was right, he was marrying into one of the most prestigious families in Westeros. Valyrian blood ran through her veins. Her name and status was enough for anyone, even the most highest of lords. _And I am still heir to the throne. Should something unfortunate happen before Viserys is able to have trueborn sons, I will be queen._

 **Viserys, Third of His Name**

He enjoyed spending time with Ella as she used to be: light, flowing dresses that floated about her like clouds and wearing only the subtle pieces of jewellry he'd gifted her with over the years. It set her apart from the tedious ladies of Westeros. It set them _both_ apart—as they should be.

"Have you read it yet?" She asked again. For the fourth time.

"Your attire distracts me, my lady," he responded smiling.

Unimpressed, Ella gestured to the letter once more. Viserys sighed and looked back down at the parchment in his lap, reluctant to pause his admiration of his lady love.

 _Lord Commander of the Night's Watch,_

 _I write to you as Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of My Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm; I understand there are quite a few kings running about in Westeros, none of which have the strong, hundred year old claim to the throne I do nor have sought to pay attention and money to the honourable work at the Wall. Unfortunately, I have yet to make your acquaintance and been denied the pleasure of hearing any stories of you and your admirable work with the Night's Watch. I do hope to rectify this and plan to visit in the coming months, with my army in order to offer you aid where and when it is needed, as is my duty as Protector of the Realm._

 _Please, fear not, I do not seek to cause any tension or war, only to help aid the tireless efforts you and your men have made and protect my kingdoms. I plan to travel with five thousand men, my betrothed, our dragons, and her family, I hope you are able to find us suitable accommodation with this notice. In return, we will of course provide new weapons and armour and whatever food we have going spare._

 _I await our meeting impatiently and hope we can be allies,_

 _King Viserys III_

"Yes Ella, this letter is fine," he answered.

"And you're sure you wouldn't prefer to write it?" She fretted.

"Were you not the selfsame one who said I 'have a tendency to come off as arrogant, entitled and intolerable' through my written words?" He asked, quirking an amused brow.

"Well _yes_ , but—"

"Then I trust your judgement and your words. More than mine own," he added, kissing her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes in that fond way of hers, then pressed the ancient Targaryen seal against her words. "I thought we knew who the Lord Commander was."

"Yes but he's a Stark bastard, no?"

Ella nodded.

"Don't you think many of these pretender kings have approached him in hopes he'll renounce his oath and give them control of the most ancient House in Westeros?"

"Yes but he can't very well run off upon learning of us coming," she argued.

"But he could very well spirit his sister away—the true Stark heir, I might add."

"Perhaps," Ella conceded.

They sat in silence for a time, Viserys could quite clearly see something weighed on her mind but refrained from asking what. He'd been learning the art of patience. When she was ready, she'd surely tell him. Ella didn't have it in her to hide anything from him for too long.

"And you're sure Dany can't come with us?" Her voice broke slightly.

He sighed heavily. "She has to stay, El, not only is she my heir, she's the only person besides us who I trust with Rhaena. Furthermore, she'll be a married woman when we leave, it would be improper to simply take her away with me with so many men."

"We could take Rhaena with us," Ella insisted. "Dany would watch over her. And Quentyn could come too. It would do Dany good, as your heir, to acquaint herself with the kingdoms—"

"Ella—"

"And," she said over him. "How will she feel when she learns all of my siblings are accompanying me yet she is being forced to stay?"

"You and I both know it has been years since I've been able to force Dany to do anything," he scoffed. "Additionally, half my army are Tyrell men, it is smart to take with me the Tyrell heirs and I'm certainly not leaving you here alone, without my protection for Seven knows how long."

"I just don't want her to hate me. She must think I've forgotten her."

Viserys took her hands in his own, leaning forward so he was staring straight into her eyes. "Dany knows that will never happen. _Ever_ ," he enunciated. "More importantly, Dany knows you love her more than your own life, we both do. As much as it pains me to say so, this is what must be done, El. Dany may be a child in our hearts but to the world she's a woman, a princess and a _Targaryen_ , El, she needs to learn to navigate the political scene here without us because this is her home now."

A Lone tear slid down Ella's cheek, but she nodded along with her king's words despite this. "When the war is won," she breathed. "She comes to King's Landing, on royal summons, and stays until Rhaena is old enough to decide with whom she wishes to live permanently." Upon Viserys' unflinching gaze, she said, "you and I both know she'll grow to see Dany as a parent as much as she does you and I. And Dany deserves recognition for the parenting she has and will do. This isn't a request, Vis, promise me. Promise me she'll stay with us."

Viserys only nodded, thinking of how Arianne would react to having his sister and her brother basically usurp her place as Dornish representative in the capital. _Not well_ , he imagined.

* * *

 **Hi guys! I'm so sorry this chapter is so poor and late! It's purely a filler that I scribbled in minutes because after seeing I haven't updated this, one of the best things I've written, in a _year_ , I simply had to post something tonight! A better, more interesting update will be posted before this time next week, THANK YOU so much for sticking with this fic for so long, I'm incredibly grateful! **


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N sorry for the inexcusably late update. Just a quick note: the plot begins to massively deviate from that of the books and show at this point. Please bare with me, as I am not as good as GRRM at handling so many different characters and intertwining subplots. I Will also be substituting some marriage traditions that are not explicitly canon due to there not being much information about Dornish or Valyrian marriage ceremonies.**

* * *

 **14th of the Fifth Month of 300 AC**

 **Queen Cersei**

Jaime was irritating Cersei with his relaxed demeanour. He lounged about the castle as if there was no crisis, no reason to rouse himself to awareness. Not even father's complaints moved him to action. The only action he seemed interested in was that of which he could enjoy with his sweet sister.

"Do _not_ touch me," the queen mother hissed.

Jaime simply grinned as he held both his hands up in mock surrender. "Pray tell sister, who must I touch then?"

"That _bitch_ , Sansa _Stark_ ," Cersei responded, almost growling the young maid's surname. "Not one of our scouts can place her and you, the best of the best, sit around all day indulging on wine and meat."

"I wouldn't call myself the best of the best—"

"I would," the queen interrupted. "Go to the Vale, bring some of father's men and return her."

The smile fell from the knight's face as he sighed. "Can you not read, Cersei? We got an _invite_ to the wedding; Sansa is in the North with her new husband."

 _"You fool_ ," Cersei spat. "Varys told the council she has fled. Roose Bolton can't find her."

"So why in seven hells would I be able to?" He exclaimed. "As much as I'd like to, I cannot simply _fulfil_ your every wish Cersei, it doesn't work like that."

Cersei loudly pushed her chair back from the table. Standing gracefully, she looked scornfully down her nose at the Kingslayer. "If you care about your son's safety, about _my_ safety, you will do what you can to find Sansa Stark and bring her back here."

With that, Cersei left the private dining room, blood pumping forcefully through her veins. She was still dead set on capturing Margaery and making the little cunt pay for humiliating and abandoning Joffrey. But Cersei had also been made to understand that Sansa was a better find; alone and unprotected in the world but a powerful piece. With her in their grasp, they essentially had the North. _Not that anyone would want it_ , she thought, _utter wasteland._

"Cersei," her father greeted her cooly as she entered the small council meeting.

"Father," she returned. "My lords," she said to the other occupants of the room, internally fuming that Jaime had made her the last to arrive to such a critical meeting. Knowing her father, he will have already started without her.

"Lord Tywin was just telling us some very disturbing news," Kevan began. "It would seem Tyrion is not quite as dead as we believed."

Cersei smirked to herself as she sat. "As I predicted. He has betrayed us, hasn't he?"

"I am of the belief he helped the Stark girl flee," Pycelle chimed in.

"Why would Tyrion take his wife to be wedded and bedded by Ramsay Snow?" Tywin said. "No, Tyrion is with the _Targaryens_."

The room fell into a somewhat awkward silence. A Lannister lion had turned traitor for the dragons. Cersei's lips involuntarily curled. She'd always known her brother would hurt her family this way. She'd always known he was a bad seed they should've discarded years ago; always bringing shame and humiliation to their name.

"Are you sure?" She asked her father.

"Entirely," he answered stonily, flinging some parchment at her. "That Targaryen boy has been sending letters to the realm all bloody month. The latest one I assume was just sent to us and speaks of the newest addition to his court, _a small man with a large mind from the richest family in Westeros_ ," Tywin imitated coldly. "And his horse wife of a sister has married the Martell son. We are losing," Tywin pronounced to the stiff room.

Cersei's insides froze. It was all Tyrion's fault; despite his obvious shortcomings, he had always been a crafty bastard. He was surely filling this beggar king's mind with all her family's secrets, telling him how best to ruin Cersei and all those she held dear.

"Let him waste his time writing letters, my lord," Pycelle said. "He knows not the intricate art of ruling as you and the queen do."

Cersei pointedly ignored the insufferable man's flatteries, focusing instead on her father. His mouth was tight and his eyes still and cold, she knew this look well. Heads were going to spin.

"The Dornish are surely no threat to your men, father."

"Perhaps, but the Tyrell's are," Kevan insisted.

"Margaery might have fled with her queer little brother, but we cannot know they have - " Cersei started.

"We do know," Her father said over her. "The eldest Tyrell girl, the runaway, has returned on the arms of the Targaryen boy."

" _What_?" Cersei exclaimed. "Why was _I_ not made aware of this?"

"Surely _not_ , my lord, she ran away with a Dornish knight the last I heard, the Tyrells haven't ever mentioned her," Pycelle stammered.

"It is true," The Spider intoned calmly. "My birds sing of Queen Margaery running to embrace her long lost sister in the Old Palace of Sunspear. Though I suppose it is Lady Margaery now, as it is believed Viserys will soon wed his love."

Cersei noticed that her uncle Kevan was not in the least bit shocked by this news, instead he and her father wore identical expressions of displeasure. _Of course Father told Kevan but not me, how long must I prove myself to be worthy of his trust?_ She renewed her conviction to convince Jaime to go hunting for the Stark bitch and bring her. _That'll show Father what happens when you don't trust me._

"Olenna, the wretch, tricked us," she started. "Having her grandson excused from service, taking Tyrion with her, all to put her spawn on Joffrey's throne."

"It is Viserys who will rule, her granddaughter is but a figurehead," Kevan stated. "But an important one. It seems all those years ago, when the young girl first went missing it was to Essos she ran where she kept the boy and his sister fed and alive until it was time for their invasion."

"They fooled the realm for years, this must be punished!" Pycelle insisted.

"Dorne is near impregnable due to the heavy Tyrell presence, it would be suicide to attempt an invasion with so many of their men there" Tywin explained irritably. "And with access to the Redwyne fleet, we have no idea where this boy plans to go next."

"Nevermind the fleet," Kevan said. "What about the dragons? My scouts tell me shadows of them can cover entire keeps."

"Dragons," Cersei scoffed in rage. "Dragons cannot win them this throne, unless they mean to burn the entire city and those who will stand with us."

" _Who_ will stand with us in face of a silver haired Targaryen atop of a dragon, woman? Forget their creatures, we must kill their men and ensure they gain no more support. This is why Sansa must be recaptured. I will wed her myself if any fool can get their hands on her, so we can hold the North. I want ravens sent to that man Littlefinger, as well as troops, remind him who he owes his loyalty to. _Now_ , Pycelle." Tywin snapped when the room failed to stir at his commands.

Recognising their dismissal, Pycelle, Varys and Kevan departed. Cersei remained, pushing her luck as Tywin was clearly in no mood to be around people other than those he could use against this Targaryen scum. He acknowledged her presence with an expectant look.

"Do not complain to me about Margaery Tyrell. I don't care if Joffrey misses his bedwarmer, she is of no importance to us. Her family is already tied to the Targaryens, kidnapping her would not change that."

"I know that. Are we truly losing Father?"

"Yes." He forced through gritted teeth. "It is early days but we do not look like victors."

"He is no Robb Stark - he has not proved himself successful on the battlefield. How big of a threat can he be? I doubt he is even mentally equipped to win anything. You forget who his father was."

"I do not forget Aerys; watch your tongue. He doesn't need to be Robb Stark. He has his pick of battle commanders. He has your brother."

"Tyrion is hardly a seasoned warrior - "

"Tyrion knows too much. I can only imagine the secrets he has spilled in his pursuit of acceptance."

"Forget Tyrion, we must act swiftly before he has chance to act against us."

Tywin stood, irritation in every inch of body. "Go find your brother. I want him back at the Rock with Tommen." And with that he left.

 _He means to take my son away from me. I will not allow it. Jaime will go to the Vale and find that useless Stark and me and my children will stay in our home._

 **xxx**

 **Jon Snow**

The tired sixteen year old watched on wearily as the few hundred men left at the Wall tried fruitlessly training in preparation of the war only they knew was approaching. Sansa's surprise arrival two weeks earlier still hadn't properly sunk in yet. All he could think about were the Others. The cold, dead, blue eyes; the icy white skin, hard as nails. Skin only dragonglass could penetrate. What was the point of recapturing Winterfell if in a year or two they'd lose it. Permanently.

"Jon!" Sansa's exclamation announced her appearance. "What is this?" In her hand she brandished a letter. He feared he knew which letter.

"None of your business," he answered, not taking his eyes of the various sparring men.

"Jon!" she repeated. "How could you hide this from me? From all of us? There is a king willing to help!"

"I don't trust kings. Particularly the claimant ones."

"He's not a claimant," she said. "He's a _Targaryen_. His ancestors _built_ the Iron Throne," she emphasised. "He has the backing of the Tyrells, Jon. Do you know what that means?"

"No, but I imagine you'll tell me," he replied drily.

" _Gold_ , Jon, armies with _thousands_ of men, _dragons_!"

"You can't truly mean to tell me you believe the talk of dragons returned?"

"After everything you've seen I'd have thought you would. Aemon does. Melisandre does too."

"If they mean what they say, then all the better. I will welcome whatever help they can bring, if they do bring any."

"For the sake of appearances, they will. He's technically a foreigner, it would not do well for him to prove unpopular so soon."

Jon nodded along. He had quickly learnt that Sansa was the expert when it came to politics and courtly intrigue and the going ons of kings and queens and lords and ladies. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but it was hard to trust all these rich powerful men who didn't fully comprehend the danger Westeros was in. Jon had resolved to not raise the hopes of him or the men who still followed him despite him renouncing his allegiance to the Watch, until scouts confirmed the arrival of this new royal party and he was personally able to correspond with the Targaryen king. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Are you not afraid of being returned to Ramsay?" He asked his sister.

"Why would I be?" She said, though her shoulders looked tense to Jon. "Ramsay doesn't scare me."

"What if this Viserys sides with him and comes here to kidnap you?"

"He won't," she sounded sure. "Starks rule in the North, and any Targaryen will know and respect that."

"You're going to bend the knee," he realised suddenly, turning to look at her. "You're going to bend the knee in exchange for his men against Ramsay."

" _We're_ going to bend the knee."

"Sansa you can't be serious," he said. "Robb died the King in the North. You can't just hand it over to these dragonlords."

"I can and we will," she said, resolute. "For our home back, for Rickon, for everyone we have lost we will bend the knee so we can rebuild our home."

Jon contemplated her words. _I am not a Stark,_ he thought, _or a man of the Watch_. _I am a no-one trying to fight against death itself._ He let images of a young Arya fill his mind, her scruffy hair and muddy knees and twinkling eyes. He thought of Rickon, the small boy barely able to talk who he'd left what felt like a lifetime ago. All alone with the man who'd raped and defiled his other sister. Though it caused arguably the most pain, he even thought on Robb. His best friend. Dead and cold. Gone forever. _Like father._ He then began to understand why it was necessary to give up all ties to the outside world to be on the Watch. How could you resign yourself to a life fighting battles no-one else cared about, battles that seemed so insignificant in face of the struggles your blood brothers were going through. Your sisters. Your father. _I wanted to save you, Robb,_ he thought. _I was coming._

He looked at Sansa once more. She was staring at him, determination in her blue eyes. Wide blue eyes that had had all innocence stamped out. Blue eyes that probably hadn't realised then how many people they would be seeing for the last time.

"You truly think the Targaryens can help us?"

"Yes," she answered promptly.

"Then okay," he gave one last lingering look to the boys training before him. "I'll stand by you."

 **xxx**

 **Seventh of the Fifth Month of 300 AC (these events occur a week before the ones above)**

 **Lady Ella Tyrell**

The wedding had come. As was Dornish custom, Daenerys had spent the day and night before strictly in contact with her female relatives as well as her bridal party. Margaery had commented that it was a little sad that for Daenerys this included only Ella, Rhaena, Arianne and Nymeria, as Doran had frowned upon Margaery or any other Tyrell females, apart from Ella herself, taking part. Ella herself thought it made the day all the more intimate having only a few women involved, as opposed to Margaery's grand affair that she could only assume included the numerous Tyrell cousins and handmaidens.

"Viserys asked that I give you this," Ella said quietly, slipping the bracelet onto Dany's slim wrist.

The young girl looked up from under the veil she wore. "Where did he buy this?"

"He didn't. It was your mother's."

"But . . . I thought he sold it all," though her tone was sad, Dany wore a small smile as she gazed at the glimmering silver.

"Apparently not. You look beautiful."

"Anyone would look beautiful in this dress," Dany returned.

"Perhaps, but no one would look just the way you do right now," she reached up to stroke the princess' cheek. "I know your life has been hard. I know this isn't your dream day. But thank you."

Dany looked at her, tears glistening in her eyes. "For you, I would do anything."

 **xxx**

As ceremonies go, Ella considered this one, one of the more bearable. The Septon they had found to perform did not have a droning voice, nor did he go on and on. Soon enough after Viserys escorted his sister to her new husband, Daenerys was being cloaked in Quentyn's cloak and being pronounced man and wife. Ella thought she should be less emotional than she was - after all, it was not a strictly love match, this was not a man Dany had loved for any long amount of time, and the motives behind the union were more than a little selfish.

Yet, in spite of this, Ella's eyes remained wet from the constant flow of tears all day. Daenerys was so beautiful, and she could see her sister in all but name would flourish in Dorne. The people already loved her. At the presentation of the new couple to the common people, they had flung flowers aplenty, all yelling for the attention of 'our princess Daenerys'. Even Arianne seemed in good spirits at sight of her younger brother marrying this kind foreign princess.

"Stop crying, dear," Olenna appeared behind her eldest granddaughter. "She's a good girl. She'll be fine."

Ella turned to the matriarch. "Do you ever miss your late husband, grandmother?"

"Sometimes," the woman said, shrugging. "But I have my sons and daughters, bless them. And their beautiful children too. I have a purpose. Something to live for," she said. "My sweet Carmella," she held onto Ella's arm. "Soon it will be you in the white dress."

Ella smiled to herself, watching Viserys and Dany laugh together, as poor Quentyn looked at the pair probably wondering if he was allowed to laugh too or if he should leave them to it. VIserys had done well today. His speech had been beautiful, and he hadn't let his temper get the best of him, allowing Dany to have the best day possible. And despite them not actually being formally engaged, he'd kept her by his side the entire time, announcing to anyone who would listen that Ella was to be his queen and by extension, theirs.

"He loves you. Very much, sweetling. You will be a wonderful queen."

"Better than Marg?" Ella joked.

Her grandmother erupted into loud laughter. "You children keep me young. Yes, lovely, better than Margaery. Although you will have the unfair advantage of being the _only_ queen in all seven kingdoms."

 _And being married to Viserys._

 **xxx**

"My sister is a married woman," Viserys mused later that night, Rhaena in his arms.

"It is not her first time," Ella reminded him.

He snorted, thinking about Dany's first marriage. "This is the time that counts," he said.

"Perhaps," Ella said, rubbing a finger against Rhaena's cheek.

"I haven't seen Rhaegal in a while," he commented. "Nor Drogon."

"Because they lack the discipline I have instilled in Viserion, who, might I add, rests peacefully no more than 30 leagues from here."

Viserys shoved her playfully. "They're dragons, free from the whims of mere men."

"Whatever," she laughed. "Those dragons are your stamp of legitimacy to the realm. It would not do to lose them, your grace."

"They always come back," he said. "It's not fair that I am too busy to train them properly. This is the first time I've seen Rhaena in more than a week."

"There is always time for family," she said softly.

"The seven kingdoms are my family now, El. And trust me, there is not nearly enough time. This trip to the Wall requires much more planning than I initially thought."

"I guess it's not all about weddings and writing letters."

"It is not."


	28. Chapter 28

**Hi again! Hoping I can keep updating this regularly, I've already started chapter 29 :D thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **8th of the Fifth Month of 300 AC**

 **The Day After the Wedding**

 **King Viserys III**

"I know it is is very early to be convening, considering the wonderfully long night we all had," Viserys started, as he looked around his assorted council. He pointedly ignored looking too closely at Quentyn as he was sure the young lord would still be grinning after spending the night with a women well out of his league. A woman that happened to be his sister. "But I leave for the North in the morn and there are certain things I wish to make official and clear before I leave, for we do not know when or if I shall return." From the corner of his right eye he could see Ella sat poised, the numerous decrees that she had written in front of her ready for him to publicly sign.

"Firstly, Lady Ella and I are officially betrothed and will wed after I am finished in the North, perhaps a year or so from now. However, if before her and I are able to wed and conceive children, I perish, I name Daenerys, of Houses Targaryen and Martell as the heir to the Iron Throne." As he finished the sentence, Ella slid him the first piece of parchment which he signed then handed to Willas, who had agreed to be the keeper of these documents. "If in fact, I die after my future wife and I have children, the eldest son will inherit my throne, and I appoint Daenerys to rule on behalf of him as regent until he should come of age." That had been difficult to decide as he had of course wanted Ella as regent but they had both come to the conclusion that one with Targaryen blood must sit the throne and it also meant Ella would have time to properly grieve and raise their children should he die too soon.

Daenerys and her new husband seemed shocked at his appointment. Quentyn a little more apprehensive than his wife. Viserys pondered on whether he should make clear that Quentyn would be Dany's consort in any such situation but decided against it. He didn't want to cause any upset in their union.

"Onto brighter matters, I think," Oberyn laughed, his niece and Nymeria chuckling along with him.

Viserys smiled tightly. "Lord Tyrell has given me use of twenty thousand of his men of which I will leave five thousand to defend Dorne's borders from enemies she may have inherited due to me. The rest I will take to the North, via ships, along with my four thousand Unsullied soldiers and the three thousand Second Sons. There, I plan to aid the Wall in their war and lend hand to a Stark resurgence. If this is successful, I will set up camp at Winterfell, rest my men and then march for King's Landing."

"A Stark resurgence?" Doran asked. "Are you certain you wish to go against the Boltons?"

"The North has been nearly stripped of its fighting men," Ella informed him primly. " The Boltons do not stand a chance. We will also be stopping in the Vale before we reach the Wall, to see if we can gain their allegiance."

"And while you are all gone playing hero in the North what are we to do?" Arianne demanded. "Wait around so Tywin Lannister can attack us?"

"No," Viserys answered. "Your mission is to capture and hold Dragonstone, as it's my family's ancestral seat. You have until I reach King's Landing. You may do so by any means necessary, although I'd prefer if my sister approved of the methods as it is us and our House who it will reflect. However, as Tywin has made no moves as of yet, when he eventually learns I am in the North I doubt he will ambush Dorne."

"Is that all?" Oberyn drawled.

"Patience, uncle," Viserys said, mockingly using the title that was now technically true due to Dany and Quentyn's marriage. "Lastly, with me, I will take my betrothed, all her siblings, ser Jorah, Lord Tyrion and the young Trystane as my official squire."

" _My_ son?" Doran said. "Who is not even old enough to be in this meeting with you?"

"Many boys leave home much earlier," Mace interjected. "We sent Loras off to Storm's End when he was barely ten and he did quite well."

"As did your own son, Lord Quentyn," Olenna added.

"Trystane is but eight," Arianne said, her eyes on Ella. _She assumes El is the weakest link in our chain, the easiest to sway._

"Trystane is the king's goodbrother," Ella said simply, a friendly smile on her face. "Why are you so concerned about Trystane being amongst his family?"

"We are concerned with Trystane being amongst battles and warring men and the rapers and thieves on the Wall." Arianne corrected.

"We have more men in our party than the North could ever possibly muster even on threat of war. Trystane will always be with at least two trained knights. He will be far from danger, I assure you."

"Think of what he will learn," Dany added. "At the side of the king, surrounded by thousands of trained soldiers, knights and maesters alike. I am of the opinion that the North produce the most capable men." At this, Ser Jorah blushed profusely.

"There are plenty of those here in Dorne," Nymeria pointed out. "Princess," she added at receiving a harsh look from her cousin.

"A young man such as Trystane deserves to travel and experience the realm," Viserys said loudly, ending the minor argument with his loud voice. "I have already made the arrangements for him to come and my goodbrother, Quentyn has assured me the young lord is very excited to come along."

No one said another words about it, though Arianne and her father gave Quentyn endless hard glares that spoke of betrayal and distrust. Of course, Viserys had lied about that last fact. Quentyn had not told him directly, that Trystane was happy to come along, he may have mentioned it to his wife however who in turn told her older brother.

The unofficial council meeting continued on, interrupted frequently by demands and questions and squabbling that it tired Viserys to constantly have to squash. Despite lowering the prestige and power that Dorne had, it's lord and lady still behaved with quite the audacity, as if Viserys was bound by any laws to answer their questions. Only his appreciation for them letting him stay in their palace and bringing him out of Essos kept his tongue in check; for there were many times he wished to scold Arianne for her comments directed towards Ella, or Oberyn for his riling up of Daenerys and her husband.

"If that is all, you may be dismissed," Viserys said. _Finally._

The various lords and ladies all rose from their seats, muttering quietly as he left. Staring at the backs of Oberyn, Doran and his daughter, he wondered if he'd ever truly be able to assert his authority over them. Dorne and its people seemed immune to the wishes and orders of their king. _What does it matter,_ he told himself, _in a generations time my nieces and nephews shall fill their court and my son married to its lady._

He glanced at his wife-to-be who was frowning at some papers. "What upsets you?"

"Just this letter from Lord Royce in the Vale," she mumbled, eyebrows furrowed over the parchment in her hands. "He speaks as if he is his own liege lord."

"You read too much," he said, looking over her shoulder at the letter.

"I think this means we have an opening," she said. "If such a powerful lord in the Vale has detached himself from the rest, there must be a larger majority willing to do so too." She looked up at him. "Perhaps we skip that Lord Baelish. Grandmother speaks ill of him anyways."

"No," Viserys shook his head. "We visit both. You say the heir is a young boy."

"Younger than Corman," she answered.

"We manipulate him into signing over his men that don't stand with this Lord Royce. Surely they must want to fight, if only to escape boredom."

Ella looked at him appraisingly. He enjoyed the times he made her proud, and was happy to note that they occurred more often of late.

"And the Lord Baelish?" she questioned.

"The whore monger? He is of no consequence."

Ella chuckled quietly as she leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

 **26th of the Fifth Month of 300 AC**

 **Princess Daenerys Martell**

It had been seventeen days since the royal party had sailed for the North. Without her. It still bothered her. _How can it be a royal party without the princess?_ Though she understood why she had to stay behind it didn't stop the intense feeling of loneliness and yearning she got whenever more than a few days passed without a letter from Ella, or she spent time with her niece who would inevitably remind of her brother. _Viserys is truly king now,_ she mused somewhat proud, _I always knew he would be._ _With Ella by his side, as it should be._ Knowing they were together and presumably happy made being left behind easier. She'd made the sacrifice to become a Dornish wife for them. Had she married Willas, Dany was certain she'd be with him and the rest of them on their way to the Wall. _But so would Arianne, as she would be Viserys' wife had I married a Tyrell._

 _I must find the silver lining,_ she reminded herself. _I have Quentyn. He is quiet and albeit a tad boring, but he is mine_. And with no one else left at court whom she really liked, Dany had spent a lot of time with her new husband; surprising herself with how quickly he rooted himself in her affections. They broke fast together, took walks around the city together, read together, played with Rhaena together and ate dinner together. They even shared the same room and bed, thought they had not yet consummated the marriage.

 _"I_ _am willing to wait," he'd said nervously on their wedding night, nearly naked because of the bedding ceremony, that Viserys very nearly forbade. "I recognise you are quite young."_

 _Dany had laughed at that. "I have been wed before once already, my lord. I am no maid."_

 _He blushed at that. "I-I know that, but I am."_

 _"You are a maid?" She'd japed._

 _This made her husband almost glow red. "A virgin, my lady."_

 _She walked to him then, pressing her lips against his tenderly. "Then we can wait, if that is what you want."_

 _"Unless you are in a rush to sire children?"_

 _Her chest constricted involuntarily. "I would prefer to wait until after Vis has won his wars."_

 _"As would I." Quentyn seemed to become less nervous after the possibility of coupling that night was ruled out. "Besides we have Rhaena to look after."_

 _Dany's heart had warmed at that. "Yes, we do." And they'd spent the night in a comfortable, loving embrace, falling asleep soon after._

Dany did not necessarily ache with longing to make love with her husband, but some nights, when they stayed up late talking about any and everything, she did wonder what it would be like to be with him intimately.

"Princess," Nymeria nodded respectfully as they passed each other.

Dany acknowledged her greeting with a polite nod and continued down the hall she'd been exploring. Dornish history and culture was rich, and as a present to Quentyn she'd vowed to learn everything she could about it. Including the fashion Quentyn's ancestors had enjoyed, by studying the various portraits hung about the Old Palace. She was looking upon a man who'd been painted wearing a daring turquoise when she heard the muffled sounds of Doran and his son. Making sure to check nobody could see her, Dany hid in the shadows behind a tapestry and listened in.

"She must control the beast," Doran was saying.

"Drogon causes no significant trouble, my lord," Quentyn replied stiffly.

"He burned leagues of land in the Marshes," his father argued.

"Nobody goes to the marshes."

"Regardless, she trains it or sends it away with the others."

"It can't be separated from her for that long - she's his rider," Quentyn protested.

"Well since you know so much about them, you train it. Daenerys is your wife and your responsibility. As is her niece. Keep them out of the way," Doran instructed.

"The young princess is _my_ niece as well, father," her husband said softly.

Doran did not immediately respond; Dany imagined he'd not taken that last comment well. Quentyn's devotion to her and eagerness to share her familial responsibilities had shocked Dany too, but she'd very quickly come to embrace it and learnt to share her load with him.

"So you would prefer a Targaryen bastard in this keep rather than your own brother?"

" _Father_! That is not what I meant - "

"What is the point in being wed to his sister if you cannot convince the king to not harm your family?" Doran demanded.

"Because I love her!" The usually quiet and mumbling lord shocked his wife with his loud declaration. I've never heard him raise his voice, once. "Daenerys is good woman and the king is an honourable man. You and I both know Trystane is perfectly safe. As I was with the Yronwoods." _I had completely forgotten he'd been fostered by another family._ Dany quickly realised that was why her husband was not as close to his father and sister.

"What do you know of love?" Doran asked, though the angry edge to his voice had vanished.

Quentyn stayed quiet, Dany imagined he was shocked at his own outburst and worried he'd disrespected his father. Though they were not close, Quentyn loved Doran.

"Have the dragon tamed," Doran said eventually.

Dany heard the dismissal in his tone and hurried away, making sure to keep silent. _I need a spy network,_ she thought. _That means handmaidens, guards, and whoever else I can keep in my service._ Her mind drifted to Missandei, the only person outside her brother, Ella and Jorah who she trusted. _Perhaps I can send for her?_ She tried to fill her mind with anything that would distract her from the foreign feelings bubbling in her stomach for her lord husband.

 **xxx**

 **Lord Quentyn**

The young man sighed as he closed the war tactics book he'd been reading for the last week. He'd made the change from the more academic books and literature he usually read to that of war and politics in hope that it could be of some help to his wife and brother by marriage. He didn't know why he was so invested in Daenerys' and her brother's success, but after weeks of deliberating over it, he'd decided to embrace it. Even if his family berated him for it. He unwillingly thought of all the comments they had made since he married her.

" _You have let some pretty Targaryen make you forget your loyalties," his uncle said scornfully._

 _"Remember this is your home, she is but your wife," Arianne whispered to him at his wedding feast._

 _"She will never love you back," Tyene laughed._

But Quentyn did not know where his loyalties lay. He respected his father but he'd been raised and cared for by another man for as long as he could remember. _I was only summoned from the Yronwoods to make this marriage alliance._ And though he loved the friends he'd made while being fostered, they were not his kin either. Law said his loyalties should lay firmly with his wife and children now that he had been wed. Being completely loyal to Dany was also much simpler than all the other options he had. She did not manipulate him, or twist his arm to do things for her, or make backhanded comments about his shortcomings. Her intentions also seemed much purer to Quentyn than that of his father and sister: she wanted her birthright back. That was all.

Plus, he had truly grown to love her. The fact that she was beautiful made falling for her much easier.

"Quentyn," Dany's voice woke him from his reverie. "There you are."

"I'm sorry, were you looking for me?" He frowned. He'd seen her just over two hours ago for lunch.

"Yes," she replied, sitting herself opposite him. The dark lighting in his private library made her eyes almost glow.

"Did you want something?"

"Yes actually. I want to send for my former handmaiden."

He liked how upfront and frank Daenerys was. Had it been his sister in her position she'd have either demanded a handmaiden or tried tricking him into getting one. Daenerys on the other hand, merely stated what she wanted. No hidden agenda, no arrogance.

"Missandei?" He remembered. "The slave from Naarth?"

"We freed her actually," Daenerys reminded him primly. "But yes - Viserys left her in Dragon's Bay to be his eyes and ears."

Quentyn stroked his chin wondering how he could fulfil her request. It would take quite a bit to have the girl safely transported to Dorne. "And you need this girl?"

"Yes, I do," she responded. "My brother left coin behind for my needs, I am willing to use it to send some Unsullied men back to retrieve her."

"That will take weeks, my lady," Quentyn pointed out. "Those Unsullied were left here to guard you."

"Do I have reason to fear for my safety?" She asked pointedly. "Any assassin hired to kill me will likely try to have me poisoned, not attack my physical person."

"While that may be true, the Unsullied are not my guards to command. I can only ask my father to spare some Dornish men." _Though I doubt he will agree._

"No," she said quickly. "I will spare two of my Unsullied men, leaving me with ten more. I just need your assistance in acquiring a boat and horses for them to ride."

 _It is not too unreasonable a request,_ Quentyn thought, _every lady deserves people she can trust in her service._ Particularly Daenerys, as she had no female relatives who can serve as her handmaiden. "That, I can do for you. I will have a route arranged for them by the end of the month."

"Thank you," her smile of gratitude washed away all apprehensions Quentyn had about going behind his father's back and bringing someone loyal to Daenerys into the castle. "I'll write and let Missandei know."

"Was there anything else, Daenerys?"

His wife surprised him by fidgeting some and casting her eyes towards the ground before answering. She'd never been timid before. "I do appreciate you, Quentyn," she told him. "I love how much you care for Rhaena, and all the things you've read to help me with Drogon. Your patience and understanding."

Her words took him aback. He'd not done all those things to earn her love, he'd done it because she'd already earned his. Her eyes were wide with genuinity and she'd reached over to take his hands in hers. They were warm, as always. _The fire in her blood._

"You needn't thank me for doing my duty as your husband," he barely whispered. "It is my honour."

"There are very few men like you Quentyn," she said earnestly. "I am glad I have you."

 _What can I possibly say?_ He exclaimed in his mind, _there are no words to express how I feel._ Interrupting his train of thought, Daenerys leaned over and kissed him. Not the sweet gentle kisses she'd afforded him during their courtship and on their wedding day and the various times after they'd wed, but a long, slow, wet one. He felt her tongue dancing with his, her dainty hands clasped behind his head; before he could realise, she was straddling him, sat on his lap. He felt her rub against him, _there_. Without warning, everything he'd ever read or heard about sex flashed in his mind. _Take control, Quentyn!_ Quick before he had time to second guess himself, Quentyn placed his arms around Dany and held her closer, their chests pressed against each other, and deepened the kiss.

"I love you," he breathed into her mouth.

He didn't expect a response, but thought it might be appropriate. His arousal only grew when his princess whispered back, "And I, you."

They continued their impassioned kissing until Quentyn found himself nearly stripped nude and his wife in a similar fashion. He began slowing down, speaking of moving somewhere else, but Daenerys just pressed her lips over his and removed her undergarments. _Just follow her lead,_ he thought, _stay calm._

"Are you sure?" Quentyn heard himself asking.

"Yes," she panted. "Please, Quentyn," the longing in her voice was enough to convince her husband to go through with the act.

The entire time, Quentyn was almost certain he was in a dream.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Hiya! Hope you enjoy this chapter and as a celebration of posting the 30th chapter later this week, I'll be running a competition on my Instagram page ( _.writes_ ) where you can send me _ANY_ scenario/description and I'll write 500 words on it. The prompts can either be from any of my own fanfictions where you wanted to see an alternative scene or just the movies/books that I have listed on my FanFic profile which I have read! Alternatively, they can be as simple as "boy meets girl on a rollercoaster" and I'll write 500 words and post them on my Instagram page, which you should all go follow! _.writes._**

* * *

 **30th of the Fifth Month of 300 AC**

 **King Viserys III**

The young king devoured the words of his sister's letter - she spoke of his sweet Rhaena crawling all over the place, much too quickly for them to realise she'd even gone. He'd written back to ask if she'd started talking yet; his own mother had often told Viserys she could never keep him quiet after he celebrated his first nameday. Daenerys however, had been such a silent little thing. Viserys could vaguely remember himself poking and pinching her as a child to see if he could gauge a reaction, though Ser Willem had assured him at the time all babes developed differently.

" _The young princess will grow to be the picture of eloquence, I promise you," he'd said when Viserys expressed his concern._

"Coin for your thoughts?" Ser Barristan asked.

"I just think of my kin in Dorne," the king replied. "I'd hope to see my daughter before her first nameday."

The aged knight stayed silent for a moment as he guarded his king. "I am doubtful that will happen, your grace."

"As am I. Still, one can only hope."

"It does not do to dwell on dreams, your grace."

"Dwelling on dreams kept me alive, ser," Viserys said, thinking of those nights he comforted himself only with faded memories of the Red Keep and hung onto sanity thinking of his mother's warmth. "But you do have a point," he conceded. "I must succeed so I can raise my daughter safely by my side, not just dream about it."

"I have every confidence that you will, your grace."

The two wandered about the ship's deck a few minutes more in the companionable and comfortable silence they'd perfected since Barristan had begun formally guarding him. Every so often, Viserys would stop to either scold, banter or chat with the men on board. He liked being deeply involved in the going ons of everything around him - after years of living at the whim of others, having complete control was something Viserys couldn't live without.

"My king," Lord Redwyne, a Tyrell commander, said with a low bow. "We are set to reach the Vale by the end of the week."

"Four days, would you say?" Viserys replied.

"At most," the lord confirmed.

"The food supplies?" Viserys questioned.

The man glanced away from the king's steady gaze. "Depleted, your grace. Ten ships are close to having none."

Bloody wonderful. "Can they survive four more days?"

"Indeed, so long as we do not encounter any adverse weather that might delay us."

"Good, they will have to stay strong until we dock. Put every other ship on harsh rations in case the Vale cannot be encouraged to lend us grain."

"Yes, your grace," the man bowed again before leaving to admonish one of his men.

Viserys had thought feeding himself, Dany and Ella had been hard; but feeding up to ten thousand men was infinitely more so. Just when he'd thought he'd calculated enough for everyone to receive at least a meal per day, some lord was informing him of soldiers starving. The Unsullied had helpfully proved the most unaffected by food shortages - Grey Worm had assured him his men could go a week without food so long as they had ale or water.

"Fret not, your grace," Barristan said. "Your brother's host half-starved thrice a week. It is simply the way of war."

That comforted Viserys some. He was in the middle of considering how best to ask for food from the lords of the Vale when he came upon laughter he was well acquainted with.

"Daenerys truly has a way with words," Lady Margaery was saying amidst her own chuckles. "The Viper has his work cut out if he believes he can so easily intimidate her."

 _Oh yes, Dany did write something of Oberyn offering her some troubles,_ Viserys remembered.

"Why any sane man would try to intimidate a woman whose _pet_ is a dragon, I have no idea," Lord Willas said, his arm around Ella who smiled up at him.

"Does that include Ella?" Ser Garlan joked.

"It's not really the same," Loras, who was permanently sullen when in the company of the king, laughed. "She's not a true Targaryen."

Ella elbowed her youngest brother. "And yet if I told Viserion to burn you to ashes, he'd obey all the same."

After this, Viserys tuned out of the conversation and let his eyes rest upon his wife-to-be. He liked watching her amongst her siblings, despite the pangs of jealousy that erupted in his chest whenever Ser Garlan or Lord Willas held her too closely, or the distinct feeling of exclusion he'd get seeing them walk about the ship, near inseparable. Around her family, Viserys could notice the more highborn traits Ella possessed: her erect posture, the dainty way she crossed her ankles whenever sat, her ease at giving commands to her father's men, her fluent and articulate speech that lacked the accents that had infiltrated it the last ten years.

 _She seems so happy._ He ached to grab her hands and drag her off somewhere to be alone with her, but he fought the urge. He'd managed to foster a good friendship with Willas, Garlan and particularly Margaery, but Loras remained resistant to any civility. Though the others approved of Viserys, he knew his presence around the youngest Tyrell made them all upset, Ella included.

"She is just as much your family," Ser Jorah appeared behind Viserys, startling him some. "The young knight will come around."

"Jorah, what would Olenna do if she knew you'd dare to let Ella out of your sight?"

The man chuckled wryly. "Skin me, perhaps?"

He patted the man on the shoulder. "I'd best just leave her to it. Come Barristan, let us train."

"Yes your grace. Will Lord Trystane be joining us?"

 _He might as well._ "Ser," Viserys called to a passing man. "Fetch the Lord Trystane immediately."

As he walked by, Viserys cast one last look at his fianceé. She looks so young. With me she is a queen, an advisor, my partner in ruling. With them, she is just Ella.

 **xxx**

 **Princess Daenerys Martell**

Dany was thankful to finally be approaching the castle; she'd spent the last seven hours touring the city of Sunspear, acquainting herself with the lords who lived within it, visiting orphanages and the families of high ranking knights, as well as enticing herself to the common people by buying everyone within any given tavern a cup of ale, or offering treats she'd taken from the palace to the children she encountered. Though it had been Dany's idea, taking inspiration from the early actions of Lady Margaery as well as having a genuine interest in knowing the land her children would be from, after a full day of travelling she was worn out.

"Tired, my lady?" Septa Spirre inquired. _A most peculiar Septa,_ Quentyn had said. _She lacks the sense of boundaries and propriety other Septa's possess,_ he'd explained.

" _Princess_ ," Grim Runt, Dany's personal Unsullied guard corrected lowly.

"Just a little," Dany answered, ignoring the guard's comment. _I am a princess whether she acknowledges it or not,_ she told herself.

"We still haven't begun to scrape the surface, my _princess_. You haven't even feasted with the Yronwoods yet."

"They were at my wedding, were they not?"

"Yes but so was half of Dorne - you must show your personal favour by feasting with them privately."

 _As Doran did, by sending his own son to them._

"I think my lord husband should accompany me in that instance."

"Of course. Will he be joining us tomorrow for our travels?"

"I will have to ask him and confirm."

 _Hopefully_ , she thought to herself. Ever since she'd confessed her love for Quentyn, she found it hard to be away from him for long periods of time. She hadn't realised what a large part of her day to day life he'd become until she'd spent the day without him. Every time she saw something she wanted to discuss she'd instinctively turn to talk with him before realising he wasn't there. When her hands got lonely she'd reach out to grasp his and find only empty air. It was a sense of reliancy she hadn't even experienced with Drogo. _And to think, I thought he'd be too boring to quicken my heart._ Daenerys had discovered the opposite. Since coupling with her husband - which she had enjoyed immensely - she found the day couldn't pass without yearning for him to be with her again.

Admittedly, it was a softer, more understated kind of yearning. Not like the fiery frenzy she'd had with Drogo, or even the heart-racing uncontrollable need she often read about in romance novels. But she had decided she preferred her new sense of wanting - though she practically ached to feel her husband again, it was still controllable, it did not cloud her senses nor distract her from her goals. Dany thought this was much healthier than a passion that couldn't be tamed. Passion such as that often led to people getting hurt and caught up in the flames of the heart. What she and Quentyn felt would hurt no one. What she and Quentyn felt was mature and comfortable and beautiful, and more importantly, what she wanted. What she _needed._

"We have arrived," some Dornish rider told the women.

Grim Runt led Dany out of the horse drawn carriage she'd been confined too. "Thank you for today, Septa. Till tommorow," she bid the woman goodnight.

"Where to, princess?" The Unsullied soldier inquired.

"The castle gardens. I wish to meditate some before I retire." Plus, it was also an area of Dorne that Drogon would frequently fly over. It gave Dany peace to see her dragon soar through the sky.

With quick steps, the pair soon reached the pretty circular garden, populated by purple roses and berry-filed bushes. Yet, instead of finding the old gardener planting seeds or trimming at some hedge, or the emptiness that was usually there, Dany saw her husband, bouncing Rhaena on his lap. The image of Quentyn playing with her niece, froze Dany in her tracks.

Within seconds, Quentyn noticed his wife stood not too far away. "Look who it is," he said quietly to the babbling babe. "Aunt Daenerys."

Seeing her niece reach out for her, spurred Dany forward, till she was sat on the bench by the two. "I told you she'll call me Dany," she playfully teased the lord. "Daenerys is too much of a mouthful for an infant."

"Perhaps you are right," Quentyn mused thoughtfully. "The nursemaid told me Rhaena was asking for you - t'was what promoted me to end my session with Arianne earlier so I had time to play with her."

"For me?" Dany repeated happily. Rhaena had started repeating monosyllabic words that she heard often, like 'play' and 'hot' and sun, but she hadn't used words to ever ask for anything, worrying Dany into thinking the princess would never speak unless someone said the word for her first. To hear she was beginning to put sentences together brightened Dorne's newest lady.

"Why are you so shocked? You are her primary caregiver, after all."

Dany blushed slightly under the praise. "Can you say Dany, sweetie? Can you say my name for me?" Rhaena ignored her, opting instead to grasp at Daenerys' long silver locks.

"It was not Dany whom she asked for," Quentyn murmured.

"But, you said–"

"She asked for her _mama_."

"Mama!" Rhaena exclaimed, grabbing at Dany. "Mama play!"

Daenerys gasped. _Do I correct her? After all, her true mother is dead and Viserys will likely never seek to find any of Rhaena's maternal relatives._

"Yes, mama likes to play with you," she heard Quentyn saying.

"I am not her mother," Daenerys said firmly, taking her niece from his arms. "I am her _aunt_ , _Dany_ ," she enunciated to Rhaena. " _Dany_ plays with you."

Quentyn looked at her, she could tell he was trying to find out how he'd managed to offend her. "Are you not glad she sees you as a mother?"

"Of course, but the fact remains that I am not," Dany said. "She is my brother's child and his wife will be her mother."

"But they are at war, Daenerys," he seemed genuinely confused at her outrage. "It will take months, years even. Who knows when Rhaena will even be summoned to King's Landing. It is you that has been caring for her her whole life."

"Are you suggesting Viserys has not been an adequate father?" She demanded. "That he will simply _abandon_ his child here in Dorne? That Ella will not love her as her own?"

"Not at all, Daenerys," he protested. "But time waits for no one. While your brother secures his throne, Rhaena will continue to grow. What harm will it do to let her see you as her mother? Children need stability, my princess. Even after your brother gets the crown, King's Landing will be riddled with those you don't want your children around, as it has been for decades. As a father, I would prefer my child to be here in Dorne particularly since bastards are not scorned."

Daenerys rocked Rhaena, pretending not have heard Quentyn's sensible words. As a mother herself, despite Rhaego's unfortunate fate, she knew she'd prefer her son safe in Dorne, where children at least, seemed to be safe from plots and violence. Which she knew was not the case in the capital. _None of that matters, Ella will raise Rhaena as her own, you know this Dany._

"I remember when I was younger," Dany said. "I think I was eight - I asked Ella if Viserys was my father."

Quentyn stayed quiet, so his wife continued. "Since she knew the truth of my sire, she was eager to tell me that if I wanted to see him that way, then of course Vis could be my father. I was so happy. You won't believe this, but Viserys was kind to me. And nurturing. I wanted to be exactly like him, to make him smile."

"Daenerys," said Quentyn. "I don't see the negative here - the king was your father in all but name."

"But he _wasn't_ though," she said. "And when it dawned on me all it did was hurt. Because it was all I wanted: for him, Ella and I to live together in some cottage where they could be my parents. Holding onto that fantasy meant it hurt all the more when it was crushed," she explained.

"By marrying me."

"No. Long before that. I will admit, I was sad to not marry Ella's brother, but for childish reasons."

"You wanted a connection to her. It is not childish."

"I'd much prefer to make my own family. Here, with you," she said sincerely, squeezing his hand.

"This is not the same, Daenerys. It doesn't have to be a fantasy for Rhaena - if she wants, she can remain with us till adulthood."

"Viserys will not so quickly leave his child with us," _no matter how much I want him to._

"We can stay in King's Landing for a while," Quentyn suggested. "Help your brother rebuild and stay close to Rhaena until she is old enough to choose."

"You would do that? Truly? What about our own children? Your family?"

"For you, I would do most things," he said tenderly. "For you're my family. Besides, my father will not protest to more Dornishmen on the council; I don't see him refusing this request."

Daenerys bit her lip. Of course she had grown to love Rhaena as her own - perhaps Viserys had been right in stating she saw him as a substitute for her own lost son. And of course she would love to simply keep Rhaena with her forever, but she knew she shouldn't think such things. _Ella will be a wonderful mother to Rhaena once she gets the chance,_ she thought, _and Viserys strangely enough, is made to be a father. She already has a family and a home._

"We needn't discuss this all now," Quentyn told her softly. "Let us just enjoy each other."

As she leaned in to plant a kiss on her husband's lip, so soon did Doran's guard appear behind them. "My lord, my lady," he stated, bowing. "Lord Doran requires your presence instantly in the great hall."

"It cannot wait?" Dany asked.

"No," the man said shortly.

"Very well," Quentyn said.

"The nursemaid is in the castle ready to take the child," the guard informed then.

Dany summoned Grim Runt to her side as she cradled Rhaena, Quentyn walking just in front of her. Unceremoniously, Dany handed the child to the round nursemaid who immediately began cooing at the baby in Low Valyrian - how her brother had managed to find a Dornish nursemaid fluent in both High and Low Valyrian, Daenerys had no clue. Soon, the four of them were walking quickly through the winding halls in the castle until they finally reached the Great Hall. Instinctively, Daenerys quickly glanced down at her attire to ensure she was appropriately dressed: though the style of the likes of Margaery Tyrell and her mother Alerie were feminine and ostentatious, Dany did much prefer flowing silks that floated lightly around her form, wrapped tightly only at her waist to emphasise its' smallness.

Dany had expected to see assorted Martells, ready to attempt to chastise her for Drogon's exploits or some offense an Unsullied guard had given - not up to one hundred men, who were much paler than the other Dornish people she'd encountered, the most finely dressed of them all stood before Doran hand on the hilt of his sword. Dany quickly recognised him as the Lord of Yronwood - Quentyn's foster father.

"Ah, it seems my niece and nephew have arrived," Oberyn announced. "Perhaps now, Lord Anders will deign to explain his presence."

"Peace, brother," Doran murmured. "Lord Anders is welcome at any time to visit us here at Sunspear, as _our_ loyal guest."

Dany noted that Lord Anders' lip had curled slightly. Oberyn tended to have that effect on people. She led herself and Quentyn up to where Oberyn and his brother sat. He seemed hesitant but she urged him forward nonetheless - _just because I have married his son does not make me less important than Doran._

"And you, in Yronwood," Lord Anders returned. "Of course, my lord Quentyn is well familiar with the area."

"Might I ask what this meeting pertains to, my lord?" Daenerys said.

Shocking everyone, Lord Yronwood knelt at Dany's feet, his hundred other men followed suit. She could feel Oberyn's anger from where he stood.

"I have come here, with my men, to swear direct fealty to House Targaryen and its' ruling lord, His Grace, Viserys."

"What is the meaning of this?" Oberyn spat.

"I would've preferred to let your brother know of my intentions while I was a guest at your beautiful wedding, my princess," Lord Anders said to Dany, ignoring Oberyn completely. "But I had to consult with my councilmen which meant returning home first. By time I got to Sunspear, your brother had already left."

"Princess Daenerys is a Martell," Doran said. "She is part of _my_ House."

"At her wedding," Lord Anders began. "Her own brother referred to her as Daenerys Stormborn, of Houses _Targaryen_ and Martell. She is the current heir to the Iron Throne - do you believe she would _rule_ under the name Martell?" The man demanded.

"I believe that Daenerys is bound by the most sacred of vows to House Martell," Oberyn stated. "You cannot swear yourself to her without by default swearing yourself to us."

"Princess," Anders appealed to Daenerys. "What name will your children bare? What House are you a true representative of? Do you consider yourself entwined with House Martell?"

"How _dare_ \- " Oberyn started.

"My children will bare their father's name," Daenerys responded. "But like myself, both Houses, Martell and Targaryen will be recognised."

"That has not yet been discussed," Doran intoned.

"You would not be part of that discussion in any case, my lord," Dany quipped.

 _Be careful_ , she heard Viserys' voice in her mind, _do not offend them while I am gone. Remember who they are. Remember their words._ She knew her brother was right to be cautious but she simply couldn't help her sharp comments. She always felt the need to constantly remind the Dornish rulers that their son had married into _her_ House as well as she into theirs.

Lord Anders smiled. "The princess has made herself clear, Doran. I am certain she will accept my fealty on behalf of His Grace."

Daenerys considered the danger of what she was doing. Accepting Lord Yronwood meant completely alienating herself from any possible help from Doran, Oberyn and perhaps Arianne. It also meant more power and influence for Viserys though, as Doran couldn't withdraw his support. They were too bonded. _Not accepting Lord Anders could spark a rebellion; could push them to the Lannisters. It is clear they seek a way to be powerful independently from House Martell._

"So niece," Oberyn said. "Will you betray your husband by doing as Lord Anders would manipulate you into?"

"Uncle," Quentyn chimed. "Both parties are guilty of manipulation here."

"Despite what Lord Oberyn claims, I both honour and respect the vows I made to Lord Quentyn, House Martell _and_ Dorne. I am a member of House Martell and _do_ consider myself entwined with it. But I am a Targaryen by blood, my lords. I might've married into Dorne but I am still a princess; the heir presumptive to the Iron Throne, and due to the lack of any other members of House Targaryen, I must still defend and uphold it and act in its best interests. As King Viserys' heir, I do accept your declaration of fealty, Lord Yronwood."

The aforementioned lord grinned at the rulers of Dorne as he kissed Daenerys' knuckles then rose to his feet and bowed. Doran and Oberyn had visibly darkened, their lips pressed into hard lines of no joy. Daenerys merely nodded at her brother's new bannerman, and glanced at her husband who watched his former foster father with curiosity. Lord Anders winked at his former charge. "I will of course, remain loyal to House Martell, for as long as His Grace would have me."

"They are still your overlords," Dany said lightly. "Unless your seat were to be moved to some other part of the Seven Kingdoms," she added.


	30. Chapter 30

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **thanks for continuing to read, hope you enjoyed :) currently looking for a beta, if interested please contact me on tumblr at** _ **lacoleywrites**_ **or ig at la . coley . writes (no spaces in between the full stop's and words)**

* * *

 **3rd of the Sixth Month of 300 AC**

 **Princess Daenerys Martell**

The Yronwoods decided to remain in Sunspear for an indefinite amount of time, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that they had well overstayed the Martell's less than gracious welcome. Dany found herself at somewhat of a loss; she trusted the Yronwoods no more than she trusted Oberyn himself, but she had forced herself into being their de facto defender and often found herself at odds with her good-father and uncle due to this. Had it not been for Quentyn's calming presence, Daenerys was sure she might've simply mounted Drogon and flew far from Dorne and it's endless problems. Dany shook her thoughts from her head and focused on what her good-father was saying.

"The Tyrell's have left," Doran was saying, his eyes constantly flickering towards Dany, who was sure resented the fact that he had to include her in these meetings. "Which means we are sorely unprotected and ripe picking for Tywin."

"His Grace assured us Tywin will pursue him in the North," Adrienne argued. "Surely they do not have enough men to come after us both and still have enough to defend the capital."

"Never underestimate Lannisters," Oberyn intoned darkly. "His Grace does not know Tywin Lannister as we do."

Daenerys bit her tongue. Oberyn frequently made subtle jabs at her brother in order to enrage her. One wrong word, and Dany would find herself barred from these meetings. She channelled Ella's endless poise and exhaled through her nose. _Oberyn will not rile me up._

"And we have his heir," Doran added, eyeing the princess. "Perhaps more valuable than the king himself at this point."

"I doubt that," Dany said lightly. "But I also doubt that Tywin will venture so far North without knowing exactly how many men Viserys commands."

Her in laws watched her curiously, including Quentyn, so Dany continued. "You say winter is approaching? Surely it will be fiercest in the North and Tywin's men are knights from the south. It would be foolish."

"Your wife is more than a pretty face," Oberyn said to Quentyn, his eyes glinting. Daenerys ignored him and instead focused on Doran. _He is slightly more bearable. He, at least, respects my position._

"Have you received word from His Grace?" Arianne questioned.

Daenerys shook her head. "He must've reached the Vale by now, though."

Arianne looked at her father. "We cannot do anything without first consulting the king," she told him. "Half the men we have are his."

"Sellswords," Oberyn muttered.

"Dany can give you approval," Quentyn said.

The room fell silent. Even Daenerys looked at her husband. Of course, she was well within her rights to command her brother's army in his stead– _I am his heir after all. If I were a man, there would be no question about it._ But she had never even considered it. Before leaving, Viserys had stressed to his sister how important it was for her to integrate herself into Dorne, and learn as much about her new home as possible. She had spent weeks learning as much as she could. She had never thought about defending the city against Lannister invasion. _Perhaps I could even use Drogon to defend them against Tywin's men._

Deciding to follow her husband's lead, Dany shrugged nonchalantly. "I could," she said lightly. "Should you ask me nicely," she smiled prettily at Oberyn.

Oberyn scoffed. "Daenerys," Arianne said pointedly. "Do not fight us, we are your family."

"And this is your home," Doran added.

 _You are my brother's subjects,_ she thought meanly, but conceded Arianne's point: _this_ _ **is**_ _my home now._

"I would like to see your plans for my brother's men before approving," she relented.

"Fine," Arianne said.

After that, Oberyn and Doran mostly discussed battle strategies and though Dany knew it might help to pay attention, she once again zoned out. She loved Dorne, she truly did, and loved her husband perhaps even more, but she ached to be doing something. To be on the front line. _I despise all this sitting around. I should be with them at the Wall,_ she thought, _I should be with my brother._

After another thirty minutes, the meeting came to an end and Dany felt warm hands embrace her own and saw Quentyn stood above her, gesturing for her to follow him. She rose gracefully, her white satin dress brushing lightly against the stone floor as she walked. Quentyn soon excused himself in order to attend his training-at-arms. He asked if Dany wished to watch, as she sometimes did, but she politely declined, longing to feel some connection to those she missed. _Vis, Ella, Jorah, Barristan, even Corman._ Deciding to some reading, Daenerys entered one of the more modest libraries in the guest wing of the palace. It was there, that she found Tyrion, hunched over several books almost as big as the man himself. Shocked, as she'd forgotten the dwarf had been left behind.

"Princess," he said immediately upon seeing her, hurrying to bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dany regarded the man thoughtfully, thinking of Oberyn's earlier statement: ' _His Grace knows nothing of the Lannisters'_. _I could make use of him. Being the son of such a High Lord must've made him privy to all sorts of information._

"Boredom, my lord," Dany replied wryly.

"Ah of course," he returned. "Dorne does lack much in the way of entertainment."

"And good company," she added, smirking.

Tyrion's eyes crinkled with mirth. It seemed to Dany as if he were regarding her thoughtfully as well. "I do hope my own can suffice."

"I do hope so as well, my lord," she said. "It would not be in your interests to bore me."

"Oh, never," the man said earnestly, though the expression he wore spoke of his amusement.

"Good," Dany sat herself opposite him. "Now which one of these is most interesting?"

 **14th of the Sixth Month 300 AC**

 **King Viserys III**

Vale was colder than anything Viserys had ever experienced. It made him shudder to think how icy and frozen the Wall must be. _It's as North as North goes._ Even Ella, ever adaptable, shivered whenever she found herself without a cloak, and kept the fire in her chambers lit throughout the day, despite protestations of the wastefulness. Not many in the Vale liked Ella, or any of the Tyrell's, really. They viewed them as Southern, which seemed to be synonymous with _scum_ in the Eyrie. It was strange to Viserys, who had for so long, viewed everything in Westeros as near perfect. Especially Ella's family. _At least they are more receptive to I._ Though he was as foreign as most in the Vale could picture, he had not been part of the War of the Five Kings that had killed their liege lord, and that seemed to save Viserys' reputation.

It wasn't the warm welcome Viserys had envisioned, but they'd not attacked his men on sight, offered food and shelter to as many as they could manage, and respectfully called Viserys _your grace_ , even though Margaery had informed him that _Lord_ Baelish owed his titles and coin directly to Cersei Lannister. Viserys didn't much care for Baelish, who had thought it appropriate to offer Viserys unlimited use of his _girls_. _Whores, he means._ Though the king was no stranger to paid company, he found it impudent of the man to so brazenly offer it with Ella so near, along with nearly her entire family. _What does he take me for? The Usurper?_ Besides that, Baelish just unsettled Viserys. He was too slimy and seemed to be everywhere.

"Your grace," Ella curtsied respectfully as she approached him on the balcony where he stood. For appearances, of course. He needed everyone to see that he and Ella were the picture of Westerosi Grace and decorum.

"My lady," he replied evenly.

As she got close enough to him to speak under her breath, Ella whispered, "have you convinced him yet?"

Viserys grit his teeth at the reminder of his failure and the reason for his unplanned, extended stay in the Eyrie. "No," he answered. "Lord Baelish resists and hides Robin Arryn from me."

"What about Royce?" She persisted. "He was willing the moment we met him."

"He refuses to leave without direct leave from the boy lord," he said back, irritation colouring his tone. "He sees us as claimants. If we lose, he will not only have disobeyed his liege lord, but the Lannister pretenders too."

He saw Ella bite her lips in frustration. He knew it angered her to have no quick fix to the problem at hand. It made him feel quite useless as well. They needed to head North, but he couldn't leave without at least securing some support in the Vale.

"We have already sent five thousand of our men to the Wall by foot," she fretted. "And in the mountains, these knights could easily overpower us." The thought had occurred to Viserys too.

"I just need access to the boy," Viserys asserted angrily. "Royce just wants to hear even _slight_ approval of joining our campaign."

"I know," Ella muttered.

She left him shortly after, when they failed to reach a solution. Viserys watched her leave longingly. They had lost much of their intimacy since arriving in Westeros. Social customs and ideas about propriety had forced them to do so. He hated it. He hadn't fucked _anyone_ in months. Usually he could muster enough restraint to live with no sex when he had easy access to Ella's arms and kisses, but when their interactions were observed so closely, particularly by her older brothers, the ache in his crotch seemed to only grow each day.

Distinct howling disturbed Viserys' lustrous thoughts. It was not the wind, that he had grown accustomed to after three weeks in the Vale. It was something else. The howling echoed through the skies once more and then Viserys spotted the flash of green and the yellow-green flames hidden in the clouds. _Rhaegal,_ he realised. He hadn't seen his beast since leaving Dorne, not even heard his roars, despite Ella frequently hearing her own dragon's roars during their sail.

His dragon flew dangerously close to where Viserys stood on the balcony. His Unsullied soldier seemed unperturbed by the load roars and flames that inched closer and closer, but Viserys could see that Barristan was put slightly on edge by the dragon.

"Rhaegal," Viserys called. "Heed!"

The dragon soared through the sky a further few minutes, showcasing how his body seemed to have stretched thrice its previous size. When his wings were fully outstretched it cast a shadow over the entire castle. _Viserion is not nearly so big._ The runt of the litter, Viserys could remember Jorah commenting. Eventually, though, Rhaegal came close enough for his rider to stroke his green and bronze scales.

"There's a good boy," Viserys said quietly, feeling almost emotional. "Have you come back to me, hm?"

The dragon seemed to enjoy the attention for he did not fly away, nor did he breathe his previous angry flames, only soft wisps of green escaped his nostrils. "You've gotten so big. What have you been eating up here? There are only sheep."

Viserys was convinced Rhaegal understood him, for he was sure the dragon puffed an irritated cloud of smoke from his nose in agreement. Viserys laughed. "Soon you will be at the Wall, my boy. Plenty of wildings for you to feast on."

Ignoring the sound of Barristan's heavy breathing behind him and the faint sound of chaos and panic of the civilians below who had no idea what was covering the vague streaks of sunlight, Viserys observed his steed. He had grown big, truly. _Probably as big as Drogon by now._ It was a source of annoyance that Dany's dragon seemed to be the largest and most ferocious of the three. Rhaegal was suspiciously calm and still. Viserys wondered what the beast wanted. "I have no food," he told him.

The dragon undeniably shook it's large head, causing strong wafts of wind that echoed in the armour of Viserys' two guards.

And then, it hit him like a ball of fire. _Ride him._ Without even stopping to think, feeling as compelled as he had all those moons ago when he'd stepped into that burning funeral pyre, Viserys hoisted himself onto the balcony and jumped onto Rhaegal's back. Viserys seemed to have been right about his dragon's desire, for it soared into the sky before Barristan had chance to exclaim and shot for the king to stop. The wind blew Viserys' hair back almost painfully, and his grip on Rhaegal's scales seemed weak and faltered when the dragon decided to show and fly loops in the air. He wanted to open his mouth and order him to stop, but he feared he would only vomit if he released his lips.

The screams of terror and wonder from below seemed to rouse the king. _I am blood of the dragon,_ he reminded himself, _I cannot be seen to cower from my sigil of my House._ "Rhaegal," he called raspily. "Slower," he ordered in Valyrian.

The dragon listened, for he slowed down immensely, allowing Viserys to grasp onto him much more securely and arrange himself into a much less frightened position. "Dracarys," he whispered.

Flames covered everywhere. Loud screeching echoed around the city. Viserys felt like fire himself. Untouchable. The show seemed to go on for hours, before Rhaegal slowly descended, rather perfectly, right outside the palace, where Lord Baelish, Robin Arryn and so many other Lord's gathered. When Viserys dismounted, Rhaegal did not instantly depart into the sky, but remained, rather intimidatingly behind Viserys.

"My lord and ladies," Viserys called. "Fear not, I do not come here to bring you fire and blood. I save that for my enemies," he noted the looks of fear that coloured everyone's faces. He could not find Ella, so he instead focused on the tiny Robin Arryn. "What you have witnessed today is just the beginning," he added. "Of the restoration of my House. I urge you to join me on my endeavours in the North and King's Landing where pretenders sully the throne my ancestors built."

"I want to ride it!" He heard a child exclaim, shocked to find it was the very same young lord. _What would Ella do?_

"The dragon chooses its rider," Viserys informed him. "But I will bring him to visit you, my lord, if you were to spare some of your men for my cause."

Viserys couldn't help but notice the flash of _something_ in Baelish' eyes. "Will you bring the others too?" The little lord asked eagerly. "My maester says there is a black one! Will you bring the black one?"

"Of course," Viserys answered, wondering who had coddled this child to such an extent, fervently hoping Daenerys was not doing the same with Rhaena.

"Lord Royce!" The child ordered. "You and your knights must go with the king to the North and the capital!"

Lord Royce grinned widely as he bowed before his liege lord, "my men and I will leave at once, my lord."

Robin Arryn clapped happily. Lord Baelish painted a grim smile onto his face. He had obviously not wanted the men of the Vale to go North.

"We will leave in two days, my lord," Viserys informed Royce.

"As you wish, you grace," the man answered.

That's when he noticed Ella, smirking smugly, behind a large throng of people. He winked as surreptitiously as possible at her, feeling his heart fly. _Of course she hadn't feared Rhaegal's roar and fled in panic._

 **Sansa Stark**

Days were always grim at the Wall, though she enjoyed Jon's company and the wisps of protection she sometimes felt in his presence, Sansa longed for her _home_. Ramsay had perverted the place for her sure, but it was still the last place she remembered being truly happy in. The last place her parents had been together, her brothers, her sister. _Arya_.

It was her _duty_ to restore Winterfell. For her family.

"My lady," Melisandre appeared noiselessly behind her. Melisandre was always silent, so was Jon really – it was welcome change from Ramsay's constant _noise_. His teasing and taunting and laughter that scratched at her bones. "Lord Snow requires your presence."

Both Melisandre and Sansa knew Jon detested the moniker _Lord Snow_. Most of the men simply called him Jon, but some, like Melisandre and the younger recruits persisted in using the respectful title. Even though Jon was a bastard, Sansa thought he deserved the title much more than nearly _all_ the men she knew.

"Thank you," Sansa replied, rising to follow the Red Woman.

The two walked in an almost companionable silence towards the training yard. It was much busier than usual, despite the constant training sessions Jon held. _We must prepare Sansa,_ he'd told her _, for the real enemy._ She wasn't sure if she believed in White Walkers. She believed Jon, undoubtedly, his conviction was hard to ignore and he was her brother, if she didn't trust him then what was the point? But it was still difficult to equate the monsters from Old Nan's stories with these supposed Others.

"Why are there so many men?" Sansa asked under her breath. All around her she saw well decorated armour, and tanned faces, and heard foreign tones.

Melisandre only smiled quietly to herself.

"Sansa," Jon called out in relief when he saw her. He was stood with two men: one tall and clearly from the East or maybe Dorne, as he was brown and not dressed for Northern weather, and the other much paler and shorter.

She hurried over to him. "What is this?"

"Viserys Targaryen sent them here. As a show of goodwill," Jon explained.

Sansa curtsied to the men. She had known they could rely on this new king to keep his word. "This is Sansa Stark, Lady Of Winterfell," Jon introduced her, though Sansa doubted either men knew what Winterfell was. "My—"

"Sister," she finished for him.

"And this is Lord Redwyne, of Highgarden and Grey Worm, an Unsullied soldier."

Sansa didn't know what an Unsullied was and she could tell Jon didn't either. But it would not be prudent to ask, so instead she offered the two men and their host, food and shelter.

"That would be wonderful," Lord Redwyne said. "There is much to speak of," he glanced at Sansa curiously. "This is no place for a lady," he commented.

"Neither is the rest of the country, my lord," she replied lightly, her eyes hard.

He said nothing at that, instead turning to Jon whence they began discussing where and how to accommodate the five thousand men they'd brought. Sansa's brain went into overdrive; if this king could so easily spare five thousand men, more than twice what Sansa and Jon would ever be able to muster, then how many soldiers were there in his entire army? And if he was set on helping those on the Wall, then he must also be invested in a Stark resurgence surely. He needed the support of such an old House.

A few hours passed before Viserys' men had been suitably fed and sheltered in whatever bunks and tents the Wall had to spare. Conveniently, the men had come with their own weapons and armour, which was good as Sansa knew Jon had little to spare. After speaking with Aemon and Melisandre, Sansa learnt exactly what they Unsullied were.

" _They have no genitals, my lady," Melisandre had said. "Their masters cut them off when they're young, so they have no distractions."_

" _And no sense of fear," Maester Aemon had croaked. "No feelings. You could slice their extremities off and they wouldn't even flinch—t'is What makes them so formidable."_

 _No sense of fear. You could slice each of their extremities off and they wouldn't even_ _ **flinch.**_ _No wonder they don't cover up against the cold._ Sansa had the sick feeling that Ramsay would very much enjoy playing with these Unsullied soldiers. Sansa briefly wondered how this Targaryen king had secured such an army. _Had he trained them all himself?_ None of them looked that much older than Jon, and he was but seven and ten, and Viserys had been at least eight when Jon had been born. _Will he bring such savagery to the Seven Kingdoms?_ Sansa shook such thoughts from her head. Viserys Targaryen was her last hope of destroying the Lannister reign and returning her home to her. And clearly, he is making an effort. More so than any other king had. And perhaps an army like the Unsullied is what Viserys would need when he came face-to-face with the vipers in King's Landing.

"Sansa," Jon said. "What do you think?"

"It's impressive," she admitted. "Not enough to take Ramsay down, though."

"But enough to last another week," Jon said.

"Have you trained with them yet?"

"The leader of the Unsullied," he answered.

"And?"

" _Nothing_ ," he replied, confirming what Aemon and Melisandre had said about the eunuchs.


End file.
